TR01: Twilight: A Revisitation
by byronthedeadpoet
Summary: Being no stranger to Twilight Fan fiction, I have often wondered what Twilight would have been if I had written it. What would I have changed? What would I have kept? What would I've improved upon? What follows is my interpretation of the story, with no aspersions whatever cast upon Stephenie Meyer. I hope this little thought experiment is as fun to read as it was to write.
1. Chapter 1: Forks

It was an odd feeling, knowing that you were about to die. I wished that I could say that it was an unfamiliar feeling, but it wasn't. I hadn't thought about it much, not before it had happened. Before I had come to Forks, I hadn't given much thought to my death. If I had had a choice, the way I was about to go would have made the shortlist for acceptable ways to perish. If I had it all to do over again, I would have, and gladly. For when life gives you something so close to a dream, how can you not be grateful?

* * *

It was dry and hotter than usual that Monday. I should have been at school, but Mom was unusually persistent. I wanted to be doing my last bit of packing, to be double checking that I had everything I needed and that my flight was on time, preparing to get to the airport ahead of schedule, but mom couldn't be herself and not drag this out as she was doing.

"Mom," I said in obvious mock exasperation, because I loved my mother to death. "We haven't gone for ice cream since-"

Since the last time I had gotten on a plane without her. Since the last time I had flown to what had once been my home, to see Charlie. I was doing that again, but this time… this time, I wasn't coming back.

"-like over three years ago."

It wasn't like I could admit that I knew the exact date of my last trip. She might think that I had been agonizing or something.

"We are getting ice cream and that's all there is to it, young lady," my mother grinned. "Don't you dare ruin this for me."

I smiled back, "I swear, I spoil you too much."

She laughed.

"But Bella!" she all but whined in a way I was quite certain I had never used in the four years since I had started being a teenager.

I sighed, "Oh, alright."

Mom bounced in her seat as I pulled us into the shop she always liked. It was slow, considering it was the middle of the day, and the middle of January.

"I liked this better when we did it in summer," I commented, whipping up a few drips of French vanilla while mom took a brain-freezing chomp out of something that had all the decadence of a layered candy bar.

"Me too," she said around her bite, once the freeze had subsided. "But a tradition is a tradition."

Then, I caught the look in her eyes.

"Mom," I said, "don't start. I mean it. I am going and you won't change my mind."

"But why?" she said.

My lips twisted, "Mom."

"I'm serious, Bella," she said, reaching a slightly sticky hand across the table to mine. I took it, used to my mother's excesses that usually require a little extra cleaning on my part.

"You are moving back in with Charlie, without me," she said. "You might as well be moving out a year early. I know for a fact that your idea to meet him in California during those summers had more to do with avoiding Forks than seeing your grandparents, so don't even try that one. Just tell me, sweetheart."

I couldn't do that. I couldn't have said that I was leaving because she deserved to be happy.

"Char-" I said then backed up. "Dad… deserves some time. With me. I mean, like you said, I will be moving out soon. I'll be off to some such college somewhere, and I'll have lived my whole life away from him. I don't want him to just feel like he knocked up his high school girlfriend and has a kid out there somewhere. He should get some time with me before its over."

Mom wasn't buying it, not for a second. Just about anyone else would have, anyone who didn't know me. But my mom did know me, in a way that was entirely her own. She could look and see better than anyone else I had ever met. I wished so much that I could do that, just look and understand the way she could. She knew that despite my words, I wasn't going to Forks, the small town that was nearly eternally overcast and housed the home I was born into, to be with my dad. I couldn't tell my mom the real reason. If I did, she would either lock me in my room, or lock herself in hers, and this time, I wasn't even sure if I was exaggerating about her reaction or if she would literally do it.

"Mom," I said, squeezing her hand. "Renee, mother mine. I am going. The ticket is bought, high school transcripts sent, Charlie will be waiting. There is no getting out of this."

I was pretty sure I was doing a better job of convincing myself than her, but that wasn't saying much.

We finished our ice cream without saying much more. As soon as I was done cleaning off my hands and throwing away our trash, mom caught me up in a slightly sticky hug.

"It's not fair," she said tearily. "I'm going to miss you so much, my Bella."

"Mom," I said, trying to wriggle free. My mother knew how I felt about public displays of affection, but she held on.

"Come on, Mom," I said. "I don't want to be late for my flight."

One quick drive, one fully packed bag, two confirmation phone calls, and another quick drive and I was standing in Phoenix Sky Harbor International, ready to leave. Once again, my mother was having trouble letting go.

"Are you really, really sure?" she asked, as the second long hug was breaking up.

"Mom," I said, and she could tell I was getting tired.

"Alright," she said, letting go of me with her arms but keeping our hands together. "Alright. Just remember, you can come home any time. As soon as Phil has a team, we'll send for you."

My mouth fell open.

"You knew?" I asked, my voice all but a whisper.

Mom laughed, "Oh honey, you never were a very good liar."

She hugged me once more, "Oh, my sweet middle-aged child. You get more middle aged ever year. But soon the world will see you as the adult I already know you are. You really get to make your own decisions, even if I don't agree with them, and especially when I know you are making a bad decision. But if someone had tried to stop me every time I was about to do something stupid, well, I wouldn't have you honey. You get to live your own life, no matter what. I love you, Isabella."

I hugged my mom, "I love you too, Mom."

"Now," she said, tears already streaming. "Go catch your flight before I start crying."

I kissed her cheek and lugged my single bag and my cold winter jacket, newly purchased, tag still dangling, and went in. It was a flight to Seattle, a quick change over, and a second smaller flight to Port Angeles later before it really sunk in; I was doing this.

Naturally, it was raining when we landed. The tiny airport at Port Angeles was little more than a few buildings and a landing strip, which made spotting Charlie about as hard as spotting a nose on a face.

"Hey, kid," he said, giving me his usually brusque, one arm squeeze before taking my bag. He kept my arm, which I was a bit annoyed by until we stepped onto the sidewalk and I nearly took us both down on the wet pavement, after which I was equal parts grateful and totally mortified.

Charlie mostly stifled his chuckle, "Guess I am not the only one who never changes."

"Dad," I protested and he was at least good enough to look abashed.

He put the bag into the back and we got into his police cruiser.

"It's good to see you, Bells," he said. I looked around at the institution all around me, the radio, the onboard computer, the mesh just behind my head.

"You too, Chief," I said, giving him a weak smile.

He started driving, the silence starting to strain.

"In all seriousness, Bella," he said. "I am really glad you are here. If anything, now your mother will stop calling me every two minutes in hysterics because she is so worried about you getting here okay."

I suppressed a laugh, "Dad, have you met Mom? Now, we are living in different corners of the country. If you think me simply being here will stop her…"

"Hmm," said Charlie, considering. "Noted."

We continued in silence that wasn't nearly so strained as it was before. It was a long drive back to Forks, and while watching the rain run down the window like tears, obscuring the unnaturally natural green around us, I had to say something lest I get sunk into a serious funk or, worse, cried in front of my father.

"So how far is the school from the house?" I asked. I had enough for a used car put aside, but it wasn't like I was going to be able to buy one before school tomorrow.

"Why?" asked Charlie, as though it wasn't obvious.

"I need to know how far I am walking tomorrow," I replied.

"You aren't," he said.

The very idea of my police chief father dropping me off at first school at school in the middle of my Junior year was enough to have my cheeks go pink.

"You aren't driving me to school, Charlie," I said, then immediately went beet red and tacked on a belated, "Dad."

We drove in silence for a few more minutes before he said, "You sound so much like your mother, sometimes. That's not a bad thing or anything. It's just…"

He shifted uncomfortable. I was right there with him.

"Anyway," he said, readjusting his grip on the wheel, "you won't have to walk. I found a vehicle for you."

"Oh," I mostly said but still sort of asked.

"Do you remember the Blacks?" he asked, which took me a moment to do.

"Yeah," I said, my voice perking up slightly. "Out on the reservation? B something and his kids?"

"Billy, that's them," said Charlie. "They had a vehicle for sale, and I thought we could kill two birds with one stone."

I was suddenly wary, "How so?"

I could see my father rankle and become uncomfortable.

"I just mean," he all but stammered, "they get some income and you get a car. That's all."

"And?" I asked, not sure what was going on but could tell he was nervous about something. I could guess that not being around your teenager enough would leave you out of practice when it came to hiding anything from them.

"And what?" he said, focusing far more than was necessary on the road ahead, as though willing that I would look that way too. I figured the pretense was over.

"What are you trying to hide about the car from me, Dad?" I asked, not trying to sound too demanding.

"I am not hiding anything," he said. I was starting to see where I got my inability to lie convincingly. I just looked at him.

"Okay," he said. "I wasn't sure if you were going to like it."

"Why?" I asked, quietly. There was really no way I could say one way or the other without more information.

"It isn't a new car," he said. "It's a truck, actually."

I thought about it.

"New isn't so important," I said. I had never owned a truck before. Well, I had never owned a car before. "What kind of truck is it?"

"Um," Charlie hedged. "It is a Chevy. I think."

"You think?" I asked skeptically.

"Maybe," he said.

"Just spit it out, Dad," I said, getting tired of how long this was taking.

"Okay," he said, sighing. "Okay. It's an old truck."

"How old?" I asked, feeling nervous.

"Well, older than me," he said.

I laughed. I couldn't help it.

"Decrepit," I teased. But then what he was saying sunk it.

"I don't know anything about old trucks," I said. I didn't know anything about new trucks. Or cars at all. But that really wasn't the point.

"You don't need to worry about that," he said, sounding relieved. What did he expect? Screaming?

"Dad," I said. "I can't afford to buy a car off of your friends that I would just have to turn around and keep spending money on fixing."

"I said," he said, "you don't have to worry about that. The truck runs smoothly, if a little loudly."

"Wait," I said, confused. "What am I not worrying about if it runs smoothly?"

"Buying it," he said. "I already took care of that part."

I couldn't understand what he was talking about.

"You took care of me affording a truck?" I asked, not sure what was going on.

"I bought it already," he said, going a bit pink. "For you. As a welcome home present."

My dad bought me a truck.

"Dad," I said, trying really hard not to sound like I wasn't grateful, because I was. "You didn't need to do that."

"I'm your father, Bells," he said a bit stiffly. "Providing for you is sort of in the job description."

It was quiet for a lot longer than it should have been.

"I'm sorry," I said, and after he didn't say anything, I added, "And thank you."

"You're welcome," he said a bit flatly, and gruffly.

We didn't speak for the rest of the trip back to Forks. Dad pointed out a few of the landmarks I barely remembered; the station, the community hospital, the school, the post office, the bank. There looked like there might be a few places in town I might get a job; a couple of coffee shops and restaurants, a flower shop and a few clothing stores. There wasn't a lot of options, but there were options. I wasn't against groveling if it meant adding to my meager college fund.

Finally, we rounded the corner, finding the house that had been my father's home for longer than I had been alive, the house that, if he had had his way, my mother and I never would have left, evidenced by the fact that it had not changed in the slightest since the last time I was here, save for one thing.

He was right; the truck was old. It was red and rusted and full of life and character. It could have been fifty years old for all I knew, but it looked like it had lived more than most in those years. I found myself oddly moved by it.

"What are you thinking?" asked Dad, since I realized that we had stopped and I was just sitting and staring rather than doing more important things like getting out. I jumped out of the car and walked around the trunk. Every bit more of it I saw, I was more in love with it.

"This is mine?" I asked, feeling a little teary for some reason.

"That's the idea," said Dad.

I hugged him. It wasn't a long hug and we both sort of coughed and stepped back rather quickly, but I was still smiling.

"Thanks, Dad," I said sincerely. "I love it."

He looked pleased but embarrassed. He took my bag from the cruiser and walked me up.

It wasn't a large house, or a locked one, which I was scandalized by.

"You don't lock your door?" I asked.

He looked at me, "Should I?"

I shook my head, "I am just used to locking up when I leave. I don't know. I am just used to doing it. It feels safer."

Dad sighed.

"We don't have to," I said.

"No," said Charlie. "Okay. I want you to feel safe here."

"I didn't mean it like that," I protested. "It's Forks. What could go wrong?"

My father took a long look at me.

"We are locking the door from now on," he said, walking to a high thin old bureau where he set his gun and pulled open a drawer. He took out a key then added it to a simple ring with another key, which I presumed belonged to the truck. He handed the ring to me without a word. Something about his expression gave me the idea that he was thinking about getting a security system put in, or maybe thinking about taking me down to the range and getting me my own firearm.

"Okay, thanks," I said, knowing better than to say anything more. I was not going to fire a gun, even if my life depended on it.

He took me upstairs, still carrying my bag, past the one and only tiny bathroom in the house. I wasn't the sort to keep endless bottles of product and makeup that completely take over bathrooms, but I was just grateful that I wouldn't have to walk down a flight of stairs at night to get to one.

We entered the room that had been mine since I had been born, even after Mom and I had left. The bed was bigger, a twin, like my bed back home. The bedding looked new, and was harshly feminine, but that was just fine with me. The desk was new, as was the computer. Or, it was a new addition to the room, because it looked like it might just be the oldest thing in this room other than my dad. He set down the bag and look rather awkward for a moment, like he had been working from a checklist and now that it was done, he wasn't sure what to do next.

"I will come down for dinner," I said, if only because it was slightly better than, "You can leave me alone now."

He looked relieved, nodded once, then walked out of my room, closing the door behind him.

I lay back on the bed and stare at the ceiling. Dinner would be in less than an hour, but still, I needed a moment where I didn't need to face anyone. I listened to the rain, a quiet, constant hush against the roof, which it wouldn't always be. It was inescapable, and I gave some serious consideration to buying earmuffs. Looking up at the empty plaster of the ceiling above my head, feeling cold despite being indoors, feeling the almost oppressive constant sift of rain, I just let go.

The tears played themselves out quickly. I had no idea what was going to happen now. It had been an escape for my mother, leaving this place, and from how she spoke of it, I felt like I had just purposefully stepped back into a bear trap my mother was once stuck it. I didn't care for cold, or wet. I was a desert girl, liking the need for AC, lemonade in the shade, blue skies, soft browns, and open spaces with an entire lack of trees in abundance. Forks might as well be my own personal hell.

But what could I do? Leave Mom stuck with me while her new husband Phil traveled to find a minor league baseball team that would have him? I couldn't do that to her, even if she wanted me to. Like she had said, this was my choice.

I wiped away my tears.

She was right. This was my choice. There was no point in crying over it. It hadn't been an easy one, but there was no other good options for me. If I was going to grow up, I needed to come to grips with the fact that not all decisions were going to be good options. I could cry or I could move on.

I opened my bag. Books went on the old bookshelf, clothes went on hangers in the closet, the extra blanket I found in the hall closet went on the foot of my bed, the desk already tidied was reorganized how I liked it, more like my desk at home- at my mother's house, and I washed up for dinner.

Dinner, it turned out, was made by me. Looking at the fish that my dad had likely caught himself and the single shaker of salt for seasoning, I felt my face fall. I looked through the cupboards and in the fridge and quickly realized that if I wanted any food that had things like seasonings, ingredients you put together yourself, and more complex steps than "Add water" and "place in microwave", I was going to have to do the cooking around here. It was nothing new to me. I worked it out with Charlie and he agreed to allow me a trial run on shopping and meals, after which time, if it worked out, he would agree to have those become my usual chores. It was what I did at mom's already, so I was happy to do it. Luckily, he let me season the fish with what he had on hand, and seemed much more willing to allow me to cook after that. It wasn't great, but it could have been worse.

Dad insisted on dishes, so I went up to shower. I was glad that I had picked up sweatpants to add to my usually sleep t-shirt, but was seriously considering a sweatshirt as well when I crawled into bed. Luckily, the blankets were thick and I wasn't entirely freezing to death after a few minutes. Taking a deep breath, I decided that tomorrow was going to be a good day, aside from going to a new school here in Forks with small-town kids who had less kids in the whole school than we did in our Junior year back in Phoenix. But really, what was the worst that could happen?


	2. Chapter 2: First Sight

That first morning back in Forks, I didn't wake up some much has become more awake. The rain hadn't let up, and the rest of the night became me alternately trying to drown out the noise and trying to breathe through the pillow that was jammed over my head. I had to brush my hair nearly twice as long as it normally took before it was straight, falling almost halfway down the mirror. I looked in the mirror and as my usual, pale as milk self staring back at me but with the addition of dark circles under my eyes. My dark brown eyes were bloodshot and my face show all the warmth and comfort Forks' weather had to offer. I slumped back to my room, and dug through my clothes. I pulled out a pair of purple leggings which were thick enough that they really could just be called pants. I threw them on with my black dress, which was only just kept from being emo by the long, thin beadwork of flowers along the asymmetrical hem. It was sleeveless, and since I am not entirely crazy, my stellar relocation decision notwithstanding, I put on a dark green sweater first before sliding into the dress. I enfolded myself into my new heavy winter coat, bought with my mother just before leaving, which repelled cold and wet in equal measure. Clomping downstairs to find that Charlie had already left for the day, I was able to find a piece of fruit that wasn't entirely ready to be thrown out and locked up before heading to my truck for my maiden voyage.

Charlie was not kidding about it being loud. I turned the key and jumped so much the engine stalled as I let go and slapped my hands over my mouth to keep the scream in. I tried again with more success and prayed that I remembered next time when school was over and didn't repeat the performance in a parking lot full of people. It took me a little time to get back to the school, and then again to figure out which parking lot to use which made me glad I was early. As it was, I parked towards the back of the smallish lot, not wanting to risk taking up a regular spot and getting someone I had never met miffed at me before they could meet me and I could give them a socially awkward and legitimate reason for said miffdom.

I didn't have many friends back in Phoenix. I had a few girlfriends I socialized with and joined on the occasional social outing, but really, it was hard for me to connect with girls my own age, to say nothing of the boys. I always felt like we didn't share much common ground. I liked to read and study and didn't need to fill the air with endless chatter that really had no real effect on the world around me. I almost never used makeup, let my hair grow at its leaden pace until it was unbearable before cutting half of it off, nibbled my nails as often as I was able to track down a pair of nail clippers, bought most of my clothing secondhand, and never dated. My wit was rather dry, my vocabulary copious, and more than once I had overheard people say that I was overbearing and a bit patronizing. It was understandable, since I was often the voice of reason whenever my friends wanted to do something truly outlandish. Someone had to be, and since I was quite comfortable being on my own as I was amongst actual friends, I found that more than a few casual friendship simply ended when others decided I wasn't worth the bother anymore.

Taking a deep breath and trying not to get sucked into a spiral of discontent, I hopped out of the truck, and managed to stay on my feet only because I grabbed the door. Right. Wet. Glad that no one had seen that, I grabbed my normally much heavier book bag and headed around the school, trying to figure out which was the office. The school was not much more than some repurposed housing and had none of the telltale signs of public schooling or any of its many landmarks. I finally found the front desk and walked in, self-conscious of my dripping coat and words "new student" that might as well be stamped across my forehead. I had taken more than three steps into the door before the office attendant looked up, a look of subtle confusion upon her face.

"Can I help you?" she asked in a voice that was so sweet it made my teeth ache.

"Hello," I said courteously, "I'm new."

"Oh," she said, recognition filling her face and making me seventy eight times more self-conscious.

"You must be Isabella," she beamed.

I smiled in return, even if I didn't feel all that happy.

"Bella, if you please," I said. Charlie had been talking. I was sure of it. I remembered, somewhere in the back of my mind, this same repartee when visiting Forks as a child. Everyone I met called my Isabella, even though I have never once called myself that, ever. I had stuck with Bella since the time I could say it, and while my mom quickly caught on to the idea, I had the feeling that my dad thought of me as Isabella first and was only flexible enough to at least never call me by my full first name in my presence.

"I should have recognized you right away," she said. "You look so much like your mother!"

"Thank you," I said, feeling slightly more cheered. I actually got that compliment a lot and it was a compliment. If it wasn't for the bits of Charlie I had picked up, I might actually be as pretty as my mother, who looked an awful lot like me, just with added laugh lines. But the features that were striking on my mother have been watered down in me via Charlie, leaving me for more mundane. However, I never got tired of people thinking I looked like my pretty mom. It was a nice thought.

"Here is your schedule, dear," said the attendant. "I am Mrs. Cope, and I will be happy to help you in anyway I can. I took the liberty of xeroxing a map of the school on the back of your schedule and marking each of your classrooms with its correlating period number. I hope you are very happy here, Isabella. Oh! Sorry, Bella."

I smiled, even if I didn't feel as hopeful as she did.

"Thank you, Mrs. Cope," I said.

"Be sure to get signatures from all of your teachers on the second slip and return it to me by the end of the day. No playing hooky!"

I looked momentarily stunned and she laughed.

"I'm only teasing, dear," she said. "No need to be quite so nervous. We don't bite around here. At least not all of us, isn't that right Mr. Banner?"

A passing teacher grunted something I didn't catch around a cup of coffee before passing out into the hall.

"Have a good day, dear," she said. "See you at three."

I surreptitiously folded the map so that I could look at it every once in a while and not have the big fluttering thing in front of my face the whole day. I headed towards building three for English with Mr. Mason. Never had I ever had a handwritten schedule before that day. I hoped the printer was down, because I couldn't imagine hand writing nearly four hundred schedules. Poor Mrs. Cope.

I was able to get to the building pretty easily, though by then, more and more students were starting to populate the school grounds, and the bell for first period rang before I had found the building in question. I followed a few students who filed in and followed suit as we hung up coats and found seats. There didn't seem to be any assigned seating, so I took a seat towards the middle but to one side. I got my signature from Mr. Mason and a list of reading material I would need for the class. To my disappointment, I had actually already read everything we were going to read for the rest of the year. My favorite subject would be nothing but review for the rest of the year.

After class was over and we were filing out, and after I embarrassingly forgot my coat and had to double back, a boy walked up to me. He was on the tall side, bordering on gawky, with greasy black hair and an honest to god suit jacket and tie.

"Hey," he said, sounding even more nervous than me. "I'm Eric. You're Isabella, right?"

"Bella, please," I said, glad he didn't offer a hand to shake.

"Cool," he said, "That's cool. Where is your next class? Maybe I can take you."

I wasn't sure if I wanted a shadow just yet, especially one who was eager for me to like him. But, I politely and covertly consulted the list.

"Government," I said.

"With Mr. Jefferson," added Eric, and I was about to ask how he knew, when it occurred to me that there probably wasn't more than one Government teacher at this school.

"I have Gym," he said, "But I could walk you. It's on the way…"

I didn't exactly want the company, especially since my first inclination about his motives seemed correct, but it was my first day and I would rather make a diplomatic first impression.

"Okay," I said neutrally, and we started walking.

"You're from Phoenix, right?" he asked. I suddenly wondered if there was a short bio floating around somewhere.

"Yep," I said, not exactly thrilled with everyone knowing all about me before I had a chance to decide who I told what about myself.

"Quite the change," he said, looking at the rain and rain coats around us.

"Yep," I said, already considering how I might avoid this walking partner tomorrow. As it turned out, the situation was decided for me. As he walked me to the door, he was suddenly bumped aside as two boys passed.

"Hey, new girl," said the taller, tanner of the two athletic boys, his eyes dropping down me and back up again, "Cute… dress."

The blonde one looked at Eric with a look of utter transparency and smirked. Immediately Eric walked away without a word.

"Don't worry about him," said the blonde boy, "Eric is pretty much harmless. If he bothers you again, just let me know."

I wasn't going to do anything of the sort, but again, today, I was diplomatic Bella.

"Sure," I said. I walked towards the door, hoping to lose the two boys by going to class. Alas, they followed me.

"Anytime Isabella," said the blonde.

"Bella," I corrected flatly.

"Nice," said the dark haired boy, giving the other a look that I couldn't fully discern. Must be a boy thing.

"Mike," said the blonde.

"Tyler," Mike said, indicating his compatriot. They both took seats a few chairs in front of me, both lifting their legs to step over the backs of their chairs to sit down at the same time. The move looked practically rehearsed.

Luckily, the class went quickly, though it was distracting to see the two boys keep casting furtive looks at each other and occasionally me, but when the bell rang, neither said a word to me, just ducked out of the classroom, pushing each other and laughing as they rapidly fired hushed comments back and forth. I was holding on to hope that the comments had nothing to do with me.

Next hour was Trigonometry, which was to be my worst subject as I was rubbish at maths. Doomed to hate the class already, naturally it was the only one where the teacher immediately called me out.

"It seems we have a new student here today," said Mr. Varner after I had him sign my slip and was settling into a desk.

Oh no, I was practically screaming inside my own head. No! NO! Please no!

"Isabella," he went on, and I wondered if I could get away with saying loudly that I had read the schedule wrong and excuse myself.

"Would you please stand and tell the class a little about yourself?" he asked.

"I'd really rather not," I said, blushing tremendously. There was a laugh, like I was joking.

"Oh come now," he said, "I'm sure your new classmates would like to know all about you."

I doubted that. There wasn't much to tell.

I stood up, but I didn't say anything at first, but will all the faces staring, I reasoned that if I was going to plunge to my death, I better get it over with.

"It's just Bella," I said, trying to smile, to be casual, to talk just like all the teenage girls I had seen doing similar such presentations of themselves. It felt like my skin was determined to up and crawl away.

"I'm from Forks, originally," I said. "You all probably know my dad, Chief Swan. I just moved back from Phoenix-"

"You don't look like you are from Phoenix," said a boy behind me. I looked around and couldn't spot him right off. He was right. With my pale skin and not a freckle to be seen, I might as well be a shut in.

"I would," I said dryly, "if my mom ever let me out of the house."

Someone chuckled, but it might have just been a cough. Sigh.

Mr. Varner looked like he was catching onto the awkwardness.

"What do you do for fun?" he asked, as though continuing might actually be helpful to me in some way.

"Read," I said tersely.

"Besides that?" he put in.

After a long moment, I just sat down and Mr. Varner took the hint. When the class was over, I was about to grab my things and bolt, coat be damned, when a girl walked up to me.

"Oh…my…god…" she intoned, "That was awful. Mr. Varner is such a-"

"I can hear you, Ms. Stanley," Mr. Varner said tiredly.

Ms. Stanley just giggled.

"I'm Jessica," she said, offering a hand. I stood and took it. At least I wasn't the shortest girl in school, but if you included her voluminous curls, she was just a bit taller. She had pretty, earnest blue eyes, and a sort of unabashed self-assurance that I found more appealing than the gawking and stares.

"What's your next class, Just Bella?" she asked.

I consulted my slip, "Spanish."

"Cool!" beamed Jessica. "That's with me. Come on."

She led me to class, and we chatted about this and that. She complimented me on her dress and while I didn't wear makeup, I could appreciate and freely admit that hers was tasteful and applied very well. Her smile was a bit toothy but not at all self-conscious.

We got through Spanish with little fuss, and I found myself walking beside her as we headed to lunch with little need for any encouragement.

"You should totally sit with us at lunch," she said. "I mean, you don't want to get a reputation as the loner nerdy book girl on your first day, do you?"

I was still considering it.

"Hey, Ang," said Jessica, "This is Just Bella. Just Bella, this is Angela."

"Hi," said Angela, and there was something in her eyes that I had yet to see in anyone's since I had gotten here. It was concern, but the sort of concern where she was looking, really looking, to see me and how I was doing. It felt like the pressure lessened a bit.

"Hi," I said and we exchanged a shaky smile.

"Lunch line is through here," said Jessica, though I didn't think I needed to point out the obviousness of said line. We stepped through and I was pleased that the food was at least food if not altogether healthy. I got what I could stomach, overwhelmed and a bit shell-shocked, and followed the girls to our table.

There were more than a few people already there, some of which I recognized.

"Hey, Bella," said Mike with more than the necessary amount of friendliness and familiarity as we sat at the far end of the group. "We were just talking about you."

"I wish you wouldn't," I said, though I wasn't sure if he heard me.

"Were you really a shut-in back in Phoenix?" asked a girl with straight blonde hair with the least warmth I had heard since I had gotten here.

"Jeez, Lauren," said Mike. "Don't be a-"

He glanced at me, and back to her.

"-mean," he finished, somewhat lamely.

"Really?" asked Jessica with excess sarcasm. "She was totally joking. God!"

Her eyes were on Mike, who's eyes were on me, and she wasn't happy about the situation.

"So," said Mike, "you just didn't get much sun?"

"Some," I said looking away, "I just have a tendency to burn if I get more than three seconds of it."

"Guess you came to the right place," said Mike with an overly loud laugh. I was trying to come up with some sort of a reply that worked for me, Jessica, and Mike, but was saved from doing so because it was then that I saw them.

It was almost like my world slowed down, coming to a pace with theirs. They were almost still, statuesque, as the world roared and rolled and roiled around them. It was hard to describe them in words without allegory, and even then, it wasn't easy. They almost lounged in the plastic orange chairs that the other student used around them, but they made it look as though it could be lounged it. They were arrayed in a fashion that could be called picturesque, as though posed by a Renaissance or Gothic painter, made all the more incongruous by the modern and incredibly expensive clothing they wore. They were all apart, despite being in the center of the cafeteria, for not only were they a class apart by their apparel, they were all staggeringly, mindbogglingly beautiful. Each had skin paler even than mine, but inhumanly flawless. Their hair was full and lustrous, their faces balanced and symmetrical, without a single excess or misproportion. All of their faces held a cool and casual indifference, as though the goings on around them were infinitely beneath their notice. They were the four most beautiful people I had ever seen.

"Who are they?" someone asked, and it took me a moment to realize that person was me.

"Who?" asked Jessica, then giggled. "Oh, them!"

I couldn't take my eyes away from them.

"Those are Doctor Cullen's kids," she said. "They live outside of town, moved here like three years ago."

My eyes roved over their differing characteristics. One boy was lanky yet toned, with a head of honey blond hair that fell to just behind his ears. Next to him was a petite girl who was actually the shortest girl in school, with a dark pixie cut. Around the table from her was a boy was possibly the largest person I had ever seen his age. He was easily more than a foot taller than me and his arms looked about as big around as my waist. And beside him was the most devastatingly beautiful girl I had ever seen. She was like supermodel pretty, but was far too voluptuous to be lumped in with runway models. Her blonde wavy hair almost reached the bottom of her seat and her face was so perfect, I was having trouble believing I was awake.

"They aren't all related, are they?" I asked on autopilot. "They look the same but they don't look the same."

"No," Jessica said. "They are all adopted. The doctor and his wife are really young and can't have kids. It is weird, though…"

"Weird?" I asked, finally pulling me eyes away to look at her. "Weird how?"

"They're dating," she said in hushed tones.

I looked as confused as I felt, "Huh?"

"They are like paired up," she said. "Gorgeous Rosalie and her bear of a boyfriend Emmett, and the tiny Alice and her boyfriend Jasper. They live together and all, and they are dating. Well, all except their brother."

I glanced back at the table, "Brother?"

"He doesn't always sit with them," she explained. "He is sort of the lone wolf type. He doesn't date, though."

There was a sigh of longing and I looked at her, finding her looking in a different direction. I followed her eyeline and froze.

Now, I was certain I was dreaming.

I was never someone who was taken in by boys. I had never dated nor felt any inclination to date before. I had seen a boy or two who I thought were cute, but never in all my life had I seen a face that drew me to a person before. Or, I hadn't, until that moment.

He was beautiful in a way that made me feel like I was on the brink of tears, sort of breathless with prickling eyes, overwhelmed by the fact that such a face could exist and disheartened because everything else beautiful in the world seemed lessened by comparison.

He sat alone, hunched at one of the circular tables, his wavy bronze hair in a glorious, devil-may-care disarray, a thin leather bound notebook drawn up to him as he scribbled away with an old-fashioned fountain pen, a look of perturbed, furious concentration on his face. He was writing or drawing something, the paper so close to his face, as though to try and blot out the rest of the world around him. Suddenly he stopped, as though sensing something amiss, then tilted his eyes directly to mine.

They were black, deep wells looking back at me, so vast I felt as though I were being drawn in and down, as though I could lose all sense of time and self if I wasn't careful. I could only meet them for the barest moment that felt like a longish century before I drew my gaze away.

Jessica giggled again beside me.

"He is cute though," she said. "It really is too bad."

I felt this was quite the understatement, but I couldn't rightly put his face into words, not with a girl who I had just met and certainly not with someone was so cavalier about what had so moved me. I risked another peak and found that he was still looking at me. I risked a bit more and realized he was doing more than look; he was staring at me, intently. I could stand it no more and looked away, going a bit pink. I was just in time to see Jessica blank some look of confusion from her face.

"Yeah," I said weakly, for something to say. "That's too bad."

"What?" Jessica said, trying to come off as teasing but with far too much intent to be believable. "Are you going to ask him out?"

I snorted, "I… uh… don't really date."

She was suddenly more cheerful.

"Bad break up?" she asked, sounding way too happy, in my book, to be asking such a question.

"No," I said, trying not to sound put out. "I would need to have started dating for there to be a break up…"

She looked at me like I had just revealed to her the existence of kitten cancer.

"You've never had a boyfriend?" she exclaimed, loud enough that most of the group sitting around us looked over and people in the surrounding area went quiet. This time, my pink was more of a deep maroon.

"Sorry," she stage whispered, scooting closer to me. "I just mean… wow. That sucks!"

"Not really," I said, feeling more inclined to disarm a bomb with only my teeth than I was to participate in this conversation more than I had to. I dug into my food, suddenly starving. Jessica gave me a nonplussed look.

"What?" I asked after swallowing.

"You just…" she said. "You have quite the appetite."

I turned my full attention on my food. Jessica said an offhanded comment or two. I didn't respond. The bell rang and I cleared my tray and left without a word.

"Hey," I heard behind me after I was about halfway to Biology. "Bella, hold up!"

I turned to see Mike lopping up, his thumbs through the straps of his backpack.

"Hey," he said, "Jessica want me to tell you that she said she's sorry, and that she totally stuck her foot in her mouth…"

He paused, as though thinking, "And that it was totally her bad and she hopes you will forgive her because she wants to be your friend."

He didn't wait for me to reply, "Where's your next class?"

"Biology," I said reluctantly.

"Hey!" he enthused. "That's two for… four. Okay, not great numbers, but still…"

I didn't bother pointing out that it was two out of five.

He joined me in walking to class. He chatted up a storm, which might have bothered me if it wasn't for the fact that he didn't really require me to say much in return. It was actually kind of nice, a kindly backdrop to my less than stellar mood. I felt myself relaxing by the time we were walking into Bio.

Mr. Banner filled out my slip as I waited.

"Welcome to the class," he said halfheartedly. "Find an empty seat. There aren't a lot of options left."

He was right. There wasn't. There was precisely one open seat left. And it was next to him.

The notebook was nowhere to be seen. He sat casually, looking to one side, a sort of resigned boredom about his features. He was very more overwhelming up close and I quickly chastised myself to look at my feet before I tripped over them. Or looked at him with slack-jawed awe.

I took my seat carefully since there was only the one lab table for us to share and I didn't want to do something stupid like touch him or anything and be forced to invent an nonexistent table for me to sit at beside the teacher's desk, furthest from him. He didn't move as I settled into my chair. Like at all. I could have sworn that I heard something, something that sounded a lot like popping joints, but he didn't move a millimeter. He was stiff and motionless through role-call, and then, with a steady and soundless shift, he pulled himself and his chair away from me.

I felt myself flush. He hadn't so much as looked my way. He had gone out of his way not to look at me, and now he was moving away from me? What was going on? Was my presence her really so abhorrent?

I felt my face flood red, and finally, he looked at me. I wished he hadn't.

His head turned, facing me fully. His eyes were just as dark as they had been before, but there was a sort of emptiness to them now. And his face, still breathtakingly beautiful, was now outright and undeniably hostile. I had never had anyone look at me like that in all my life. He looked as though… as though he wanted to kill me.

There was a knock at the door, and it opened before Mr. Banner could pause his lesson. Almost reluctantly, the boy drew his gaze away from me.

It was the small one, Alice. She was standing in the doorway, a positively charming look on her face. The boy sighed, but it didn't sound much like a sigh; it sounded more like a low hiss.

A shiver ran down my spine, and I suddenly didn't want to move.

"I need Edward," Alice said pleasantly from the door.

Mr. Banner looked like he was about to argue.

"It's a family emergency," she added. "We need to leave now."

For that last sentence, particularly the last word, she looked at him.

He said something. I couldn't quite catch it, but it sounded like he said, "No."

I looked back at him. I couldn't help it. The movement seemed to catch his attention, and he looked from his adopted sister back at me. The look was on his face again, but this time, it intensified, as though he was about to cry out and lounge at me. There was a sudden flare, as though the iris of his eye were splitting vertically down its middle, like the cracking of crust, revealing molten red beneath. His jaw tightened, and he closed his eyes and looked away.

"Well then," said Mr. Banner. "If it is an emergency, go on then."

Edward didn't look back at me. He stood so quickly that his chair clattered against the wall behind him. Without a sound and with the grace of a passing cloud's shadow, he glided out of the room, his sister taking his arm. I was just able to see him shake it off as the door closed behind them.

For the life of me, I couldn't have told you what happened in Biology that day. Mr. Banner could have wheeled in an alien from Area 51 on a gurney and expounded on the creature's anatomy before a portal opened up and the alien's kin appeared to take it back to the homeworld and I wouldn't have been any the wiser.

What had just happened? I didn't understand it at all. Why had he looked at me like that? I felt foolish for not knowing, not understanding. I was certain that I hadn't done anything to him. Why was he so angry? Why had his sister come to get him? I am not sure who else saw what had happened, but the timing seemed too convenient. And, the thought making more shivers run up and down my spine, what would have happened if she hadn't?

By the end of the period, I was a wreck. I couldn't help but go over and over the situation in my head, trying to figure out what I had done to him, why this had happened, wondering if it had been my fault. By the time class was over, I was feeling utterly dismal and dejected. Or maybe rejected was the right word.

"Are you okay?" asked Mike. "You look like your dog died."

"I'm fine," I assured him, before I read the words in front of me on the map.

Gym. Why did it have to be Gym?!

I had already taken Gym! I had completed the year and a half requirement as soon as I could because it was miserable. Imagine going to see a concert by a pianist who was trying to play Debussy by sight, who had never touched a piano before. Now, imagine the concert was every day, and the pianist never got any better. That's me in Gym.

"What is it?" Mike asked, looking almost scared now.

"I have Gym," I said dourly.

"Alright!" said Mike, completely oblivious. "Two for two!"

I didn't add that this was the cherry on top to an already disastrous day. What would be the point?

We headed past the cafeteria to where the gym was located. I saw the split where girls went towards one door and boys towards the other, not sure which door led into the gym itself.

"Coach Clapp is through there," Mike said, sounding a least marginally sympathetic, which was the second nicest thing to happen to me that day, behind Jessica's apology.

I entered the gym proper and found the coach in question, gathering up some volleyballs and placing them on a rolling cart that held sport balls.

"Coach?" I asked, always feeling awkward using the title.

He looked up, seemingly annoyed to be interrupted.

"Yeah?" he asked crisply. "What do you want?"

"I'm Bella Swan," I said, and sighed when this didn't elicit a response.

"Isabella Swan," I repeated, trying not to grind my teeth.

"Oh," he said, finally seeming to get it. "So? What do you want?"

"It's just," I said, trying to find the words, "I am scheduled for gym this period. And…"

"And?" he said, putting his hands on his hips.

"I already fulfilled my gym requirement at my last school," I finished.

"Which was?" he asked, his eyes hardening.

"Two years," I said, my voice a little softer.

"Well, Isabella," he said harshly, "you're not at some soft, holier than thou, yuppie school anymore. Here at Fork's High, we teach Gym all four years."

I could feel the prick of angry tears start, and I was determined no to shed a single traitorous drop for this jerk. Fortunately, he took one look at my face and realized he might have been a bit overzealous.

"Look," he said. "I get it. You're in a new school and things are different and that's hard and all. But this is the way it is. You have two choices. You can hate it, or you can get used to it. So which is it going to be?"

I took a deep breath. I nodded and pulled my slip out of my bag. He materialized a pen out of nowhere and signed.

"Come on," he said, and headed to a side door that lead to his office. He dug through a box and pulled out a combination lock and an oversized shirt and shorts. He pulled a piece of tape off the back of the lock, read the combination that was written there, and wrote it on the corner of a piece of paper before tearing it off and handing me the lot.

"Here," he said. "Stash these an open locker in the girl's locker room. Door's over there. You don't have to change out today, but you do get to see how things are run, get used to the idea and all. Tomorrow, you play."

I watched more than few volleyball games, sort of remembering the rules and having to relearn them. I noticed that Mike was actually pretty good, and was starting to be okay with Gym by the time the period was wrapping up. However, I was still pretty determined to never actually touch the ball unless someone made me.

The day was finally over. I was tempted to just run, to hop in my truck and bolt, but I still needed to turn in my class slip to Mrs. Cope. I suddenly had the most grotesque mental image of her waiting, staying after all the other office workers had left, wondering what had happened to me. I marched to the office in a huff, if only to get the image out of my head all the sooner.

I stepped into the office and found that someone was already in line ahead of me. I was determined to wait my turn, not to eavesdrop, when I realized who it was in front of me.

"I'm really sorry to hear that," Mrs. Cope was saying. "It isn't too serious, I hope."

"We really don't know yet," Alice replied, her voice confident and no nonsense, sounding mature to me, almost like an authority figure. "It is an unusual form of leukemia, and the prognosis isn't really definitive because there isn't a lot of information about it. He is going to stay with his brother in Maryland until he is out of the woods, perhaps longer if… well, if it comes to that."

"Of course," said Mrs. Cope. "I hadn't heard that he had a brother. Are they close?"

"They haven't seen each other since before the adaption," said Alice. "That was so long ago, I don't think they kept in touch much before now."

"I see," Mrs. Cope replied. "You said you would be collecting his school work?"

"I will," she said, "or one of my siblings. I don't know how quickly he will get it done. It has been so long since he has seen his brother, and for them to be reunited under such circumstances… But I am sure he will get to it as soon as he reasonably can."

"I'm sure he will," said Mrs. Cope. "You all are such wonderful students. We just hope Edward returns soon and that everything works out well. You'll give him all our best, won't you, Ms. Cullen?"

"Certainly," said Alice. "I will see you tomorrow, Mrs. Cope."

She turned, her eyes finding mine in an instant, as though she knew exactly where to look. Her eyes were very, very blue, a royal blue, and it occurred to me that she must wear contacts. No sooner had the thought entered my head, it was pushed out again by the fact that she was looking at me, really looking, full in the face, in a way that a total stranger really wouldn't do. Her expression was hard to understand. It was sort of serious and… sympathetic? Pitying? Concerned? Apologetic? Embarrassed? Some mix of all of the above?

Before I could act further, she stepped around me with a grace that almost staggered me, making the move look like it was part of a well rehearsed dance routine done by a seasoned ballerina. I was a bit flummoxed as I tried to remember why I was here.

"Hello, dear," said Mrs. Cope. "Do you have your slip for me?"

I was standing there, slip in hand, half extended, in a daze. I quickly stepped over and hand her the slip.

"Did you have a good first day?" she asked as she filed it away. I swear I said something, but as soon as the words left my mouth, I couldn't remember them.

"That's nice," she said, more focused on her papers than on me. "That's everything I need. I hope you like it here. Have a good rest of your day."

It wasn't until my truck roared to life that I was snapped out of it. I was driving and needed to pay attention, but I also needed time to organize my thoughts. I needed something to do that didn't require much from my brain, something I could do without much thinking, something meditative.

Swinging by the house, I grabbed cash from the jar Charlie kept above the fridge that he had pointed out the night before when we discussed cooking and shopping. I drove to the local market, grabbing the usual fair I would pick up when I lived in Phoenix, or at least as close as I could with the slightly more limited selection. I brought the food home, and put it away, did all my homework, cooked at cursory meal, greeted Charlie, ate, answered any questions he had about my day noncommittally, left him to clean up, reviewed my homework, showered, and was lying in bed and staring at the ceiling in the dark with the wind rushing over the roof and still, I couldn't make everything fit together.

The entire day, I couldn't stop thinking about Edward Cullen. Why? Why had he looked at me like that? Was his brother really sick? The timing seemed too coincidental. But if his brother wasn't sick, what possible reason would he have for not returning to school? Was it me? Had I done something? And if it was me, why couldn't they just tell me?

I wondered what would happen if I talked to Alice or… well, no, I couldn't even really consider talking to any of his other siblings. And I didn't think I was really going to ask Alice either. How utterly self-centered that would be! I couldn't just walk up to her and ask if her adopted brother's brother was really sick or if he had left because of me. I could never do anything so callus.

And yet, even then, as I lay there, I couldn't stop thinking about his face. It was like it was etched into my eyes, his surreally idyllic beauty, the set of his mouth as he concentrated, the set of his jaw when he stared off into space, even the flair of his eyes when he glared at me. The very idea of the light on his hair made my skin tingle and my knees weak. His lips… I wouldn't even bring myself to consider what might be possible if I…

I rolled over and looked at the blank wall closest to me. I wasn't sure I liked this at all. I never, ever felt swept away by a boy, let alone one that glared and left school unexpectedly. The very idea that I could be so easily swayed by a pretty face twisted my stomach. Was I really so shallow, so typical? Could his beauty let me ignore the fact that he had looked so angry?

No.

He hadn't looked angry.

He looked like he wanted to kill me.

And I couldn't just ignore that.


	3. Chapter 3: Open Book

By the end of the week, my routine is pretty much established. I would wake up, usually after Charlie had left, and go to school. English, with a brusque greeting in passing from Eric. Mike and Tyler try to chat me up on the way to Government, but I got the impression that they were more interested in trying to social one up the other than really communicate with me in any sort of meaningful way. After Government, I would meet Jess in the bathroom nearest to Trig where she would be reapply lip-balm and we would chat a bit before class. She made that first few days more bearable, helping me get the lay of the social system and figuring out what not to do without having to step in it first. Jess was so ready to gossip with me, or rather at me, and while I didn't do more than the required oohing and awing as necessary for her to feel as though she told a good story, I did get really good information about the students around me.

Next came lunch, where I got to chat with Angela, who I was coming to like more and more whenever we spent time together. Where Jess was unapologetic and brazen, Ang was earnest and genteel. She was the most decent person I had met so far, though I could never admit that without sounding very conceded. I simply smiled genuinely back at her and lent her my support in every way that I could.

Lunch was also important because it gave me the opportunity to check and see if he was there. He never was, absent from his table of solitude or from his chair with his adopted siblings.

I went to biology, actually with Angela beside me, but more often than not, she gave way to Mike who chatted happily about anything and everything. I kind of got the impression that he just really wanted to be around me, and honestly, just that was nice to have around. I had no doubt that I would never date Mike, but his company was appreciated. He would then join me after Bio on the way to Gym, where I was almost late more than once because he needed to finish some train of thought, us standing outside the door to the girls' locker room, getting odd or knowing looks as the other girls passed inside.

After the travesty and devastation that was Gym, I would head home, if I don't have any errands. Once home, I would do homework, occasionally read, or email my mother. After I had forgotten for the first thirty six hours of being in Forks and nearly had her calling Charlie to send out a search party, I didn't make the mistake of delaying a message again.

Once dinner rolled around, I would prepare a meal, to which Charlie usually came home to right about the time I was plating. He and I would sit at the table and eat, occasionally commenting about our days. The longest conversation we had happened on Friday, which was made all the more disconcerting because Charlie brought it up.

"Do you know Edward Cullen?" he asked a bit out of the blue.

Considering that I had just been thinking about him, I found myself wondering if he had suddenly become a telepath.

"I know of him," I said hesitantly. "Why?"

"Oh," said Charlie, backpedaling. "It's just… he is one of the doctor's boys, and he apparently has been out of school. Something about his brother getting sick. I just wondered if you knew anything more."

I snorted, which got me a raised eyebrow from Charlie.

"Dad," I said, a bit indulgently. "I am not exactly a social butterfly. I have been at this school for four days, and he left early on my first day, like five minutes into the only class I have with him. I don't know anything about him, save for he is the doctor's adopted son."

And he wrote in a notebook with a fancy pen. And his copper hair could shine even under fluorescent lights. And that even if he was angry, he was still the most beautiful boy I had ever seen. I was pretty sure that if he ever came back, and looked at me with any sort of pleasant expression, I would very probably faint.

"I don't know much about him either," said Charlie. "They moved into town around the same time you started high school. That's the only reason I remember when. I thought that we might have some trouble, since rich boys in small towns have a tendency to make their own fun, but there wasn't anything. They spend time together like a family should, camping and the like. The kids are apparently straight A students and even though they keep to themselves, they are friendly enough."

I wondered for the hundred million billionth time what I did to get the death stare.

"They sound like nice people," I said.

"Just," said Charlie, "don't get to friendly with him."

For a moment, I felt like he had read my mind again.

"Huh?" I asked, feeling a bit shaky.

"I just mean…" said Charlie. "Are you… uh… dating-"

I nearly toppled my chair in my sudden need to get a glass of water.

"No," I said, embarrassed, after I had drain my glass, refilled it, and brought back to the table.

"No," I said again, sitting. "I am not dating."

"Good," Charlie said. "That's good."

Other than that, Charlie pretty much left me alone. If he needed to talk to me, he did it whenever he bumped into me in the house. He never came to my room, except for the singular time when I found a canister of pepper spray and a rape whistle on my bedside table. Other than that, he never did so much as knock at my door.

The weekend broke up the routine a bit. I did chores and washed clothes and was more alone than I would have been back in Phoenix. Charlie spent most of his free time fishing, which I could tell he was anxious about now that I was living with him. But I encouraged him not to turn his life upside down on my account and he relented, even if he didn't relax. I filled my time with homework and emails and finding things to do around the house and reading and, of course, thinking of Edward Cullen.

But Sunday night, after dinner was eaten and a shower was had and I was trying once again for sleep to take me in this cold and windy and sleepless place, something frightening occurred to me; what if he never comes back? What if my questions were never answered? What if I never saw him again? I honestly wasn't sure which idea I didn't like the most.

Monday was an altogether miserable day. I was one of the coldest yet since I had been in Forks. Walking out of first period, bits of flaky fluff were falling almost lazily down.

"What is that?" I asked to no one in particular, but Mike still answered.

"It's snow," he said.

"What?" I asked, dumbfounded.

"You know?" he said smiling. "Snow? You've never seen snow before?"

"No," I said.

"Man, Bella," he laughed. "I can't even imagine what that's like."

"What are you talking about?" I asked in exasperation. "You were born in California!"

"I…" he seemed stunned. "Yeah, I was. How did you know that?"

Jessica had told me. She had told me a lot about Mike. She presented me with so much hoarded information, I was pretty sure she was harboring a major crush and probably some pretty lusty feelings. And, I wasn't about to out her either.

"I heard it around," I said vaguely. "Somewhere. I don't really remember."

I wasn't really a lie. So much was happening that first week. I could have heard it in any number of places. Jess hadn't yet started calling me, but I got the impression that we were about two good conversations away from exchanging numbers and carrying on our more gossipy gossip sessions at home with less chance of being overheard.

I was about to say something more when the first snowball landed. Luckily, it was aimed at Mike and not me, but that just meant I got the bits that decided oh so meanly to bounce my way. The squeal that escaped me as flecks of ice spattered my neck got a louder response from Mike than the snowball.

"Are you okay?" he chuckled.

"I don't like cold," I found myself pouting. "Or ice. Especially ice that is on my skin!"

I pulled up my binder in self-defense as the second ball landed. Mike suddenly got a mischievous look in his eye and reached down to scrape up a palm of the slush around him.

"Mike," I said with the most dead-serious expression I could muster. "If you throw that at me, I will never, ever forgive you."

The ball fell in a sodden heap, his expression staggered and a little amazed.

"Yes, ma'am," he said, and his expression turned to something way more admiring than I really felt comfortable with. I hurried to class.

After two more classes and nearly twice as many dodged snowballs, I was finally making my way to the cafeteria. The snow was beginning to melt already, and the rest was coming down as a fine drizzle, wiping away what little clustered chunks were left. I couldn't believe that I was actually happy to see rain again, but my happiness was short lived.

I was heading to the line with Jess when my eyes strayed as they usually did over to where the Cullens sat. There were five people sitting there. He was half turned from me, his hair like a beacon in the largish room. I felt the bottom drop out of my stomach and my heart accelerate to pure fight or flight levels. As if cued, he turned and looked right at me. Without a conscious thought, I stepped behind Jess, thankful her hair was high today and that she could conceal me completely.

"Hey," she said. "What's up with you?"

"Hm?" I replied.

"You look funny," she said. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, no," I said. "I uh…"

"Well," she said, "that clears that up…"

I got only an apple in line, my stomach not feeling up for much more.

"Are you sure you're okay?" she asked.

"I might be sick," I said. I wondered if I could leave early. But who was I kidding? I had never skipped a single class in my life.

As we took our seats, I risked a glance back at the table. He was talking with his siblings, a sort of resolute look about him. The muscles in his jaw were really pronounced, like his jaw was clenched but still moving at the same time. He looked a little tense and a lot defensive. As I looked around, I could tell the rest of his family was similarly cast, only they looked more worried and rather unhappy. When I moved to look at Alice, she was already looking my way, and it was at that point that I realized that it really was about me.

How was this possible? How could this be about me? I was no one and nothing and didn't do anything to him! And yet, all this disruption was somehow my fault.

I didn't eat the apple. I decided to skip class. I was determined to make my way to my truck and drive off and possibly hop on the next plane back to Arizona if not just drive there in my truck without even going back to Charlie's for my clothes. But then I would have to in order to pick up my money. So I started forming plans and writing checklists in my head and figuring out who I needed to call and when, which made it all the more infuriating when I found myself walking into Biology.

I tried not to stop dead in my tracks because, naturally, he was already there. He was sitting back in his chair, looking away from the empty seat beside him. He looked as though he could be lost in thought, but there was no denying that his tension was still very much present in the set of his jaw and the way his hand clutched his arm.

I felt myself looking down. I was about to sit next to this boy in all his designer and gorgeous glory. And here I was, in worn jeans under a mid-length woolen skirt and an unflattering green sweater that's only redeeming value was its unbelievably gratifying warmth. I was secondhand, plain, average, superfluous. He was stylish, elegant, courtly somehow, a walking superlative. I would have felt inadequate, if there was anyone in their right mind who thought the two of us could be grouped in any way, shape, or form.

Taking a deep breath and pushing away the overwhelming thought of what I was about to do, I kept walking towards my desk, determined to get some answers. And, that was exactly when I caught my foot on a desk and almost fell. As I staggered, I felt a cool hand on my shoulder, steadying me, but as I straightened, no one was in evidence. I looked over, aghast that he might have witnessed my klutzy self, but he hadn't even moved. I wasn't sure what was worse, that he might have seen me or that he didn't care enough to notice.

I took my seat, feeling suddenly very different. He had glared at me, run away, and now he was back. He owed me an explanation, an apology, and I was going to get it, even if I-

"Hello."

For what seemed like the better part of the class, I didn't move. That voice was… indescribable. It was like sugar melting into warm water, resonant and clear, with all the satisfaction of scratching a long ignored itch. It was clean and yet with just the bit of a gravelly edge to it, as though restrained, but restrained against what? It was so rich and with so many depths, I could have listened to it all day, content to just try and catch every layer.

"My name is Edward," he said.

He was talking to me? He was looking at me!

I didn't even remember turning to face him, but I was. I was looking at his face, a bare foot from mine, his expression pleasant and slightly amused. I felt the edges of my vision go gray, and I, for which I was so very thankful, didn't actually faint. But, it was a close thing.

His expression twitched.

"And," he said with just a little extra weight behind the words, "you are?"

Completely unable to speak, that's what I was.

I looked away. Class was about to start, and I wasn't about to open my mouth. I was sort of concerned that I might stare slack-jawed at him, so I was resigned to clamping my mouth shut.

"You are being very rude, Bella," he said, and I could tell if he was more amused or irritated that I wasn't responding.

I glanced back at him. How did he know my name?

"Why should I answer?" I asked somewhat glibly. "You already seem to know who I am."

There was something here, something that was bugging me, like I wasn't getting all the pieces, but I could see a few of them and it didn't make any sense.

His lips twisted in a very appealing way that dragged my gaze to them. I decided immediately that looking at his mouth was a very bad idea.

"It is customary to introduce yourself to someone when you first meet," he said, his words rolling and sliding over me, seeming to orient themselves down my spine and back up again, "even if you know the other's name."

I was somewhat torn by his words. On the one hand, I wasn't about to be talked down to by anyone, no matter how handsome they were. On the other, he made it really hard to be anything but enamored by him.

"Hello, Edward," I managed to say without too much of an edge to my voice. "I'm Isabella, but I insist everyone calls me Bella, as you have already gathered."

That was it. How did he know that? It wasn't as though he had been present any of the times I had corrected him. He didn't seem to be one for gossip. Yet, he knew the preference I had for my name. He might have been able to overhear it. Then, a truly frightening notion popped its way into my head; could he have been paying attention to me, even if indirectly? I quickly pushed that thought aside.

He was still a moment, and it was a very weird sort of stillness. It was like flipping a switch, like all the animation went out of him, completely. For the barest moment, he didn't register as a living person. Then he tsked.

"Well, Just Bella," he said. "It was hard to miss."

Jess hadn't let off of that for the entire last week. Between that and her ability to gossip, I was surprised that one hadn't gotten back to my mom already. So why did that just seem like a convenient explanation?

Class started, but he didn't seem interested in paying attention to biology today.

"I apologize for not introducing myself last week," he said more evenly. "I was not in the best of moods."

"How is your brother?" I asked, my words biting. I wasn't sure if I was more annoyed by his excuses, the fact that he seemed to be lying to me, or that we were supposed to be paying attention to Mr. Banner lab assignment.

"Better," he said shortly. "Thank you for asking."

His words were polite but also slightly wistful. I decided to lighten up.

"I am glad he is doing well," I said.

Mr. Banner started passing out the labs and slides. We were comparing the stages of Mitosis. I had done this lab before, but why bring that up?

"No using the book," Mr. Banner sighed. "Let's see how well you all were paying attention to the homework. Get started."

I was already taking the slide and setting it on the stage when I remembered that I had a lab partner.

"Um," I said thickly, "did you want to do the first slide?"

"Go ahead," he said, his smirk just a little insulting. I wasn't sure if he was going to let me do all the work, but then I remembered that he was supposed to be some glowing example of scholarly perfection. He was probably waiting for me to get it wrong so he could judge me for my inferiority or something.

I switched over to the appropriate magnification, quickly adjusted the stage with a practiced hand and focused on the cells indicated.

"Prophase," I said assuredly. I turned and looked at him, only he wasn't where I expected. He had moved closer, silently, and was now shoulder to shoulder with me, so close that I couldn't see his whole face at once.

"May I?" he asked. I was pretty sure I still had lungs. I was just having trouble locating them at the moment. I nodded, leaning back, but not really wanting to.

"Prophase," he agreed. With quick and efficient motions, he replaced the next slide, doing so with more familiarity than I would have imagined Mr. Banner possessing. Once in place he checked, and then moved aside for me to look, saying nothing.

"Anaphase," I said.

He nodded, a look of satisfaction on his face, "That was my assertion as well."

He marked the lab as I prepared the next slide, and we continued like that, back and forth, only he actually stated his answer when he looked first the next time his turn came around. We made short work of the lab, after which we were left with little to do. No one seemed anywhere close to done. Mr. Banner was walking around, seeming to have to help half the class to even make sure their settings were correct.

"You seem unhappy," he said into the silence.

I looked at him. He was studying my face, that same sort of intensity he had when he was writing in his notebook last week. Whatever was flying around in my stomach, they seemed too big to be butterflies.

"What's your point?" I asked, trying to catch my breath.

"Are you unhappy?" he asked, his face strange, almost perturbed.

"Are you angry?" I asked right back.

He registered confusion, "I beg your pardon?"

"You glared at me that first day in class," I pointed out, not believing that I was actually bringing this up.

"Yes," he said, his voice drawn out, abashed.

"Care to explain that?" I asked pointedly.

"I believe that I-" he started.

I interrupted, "said you were not in the best mood. That hardly explains a thing. If you want to know personal information about me, the least you could do is be willing to share some of your own."

He was quiet for a long moment, then looked away from me.

"I wasn't expecting… you," he said.

Of course. It was all my fault. I knew it. I looked away. I opened my mouth to offer to trade partners with someone else, but then I closed my mouth. I didn't want to do that. Even with all the glaring, I didn't want to leave. And that was a really special kind of stupid.

"Did I upset you?" he asked.

"No," I said quickly. "I'm fine."

He looked confused, "Last week."

Now I was confused, "Huh?"

Wow, just fantastic use of verbiage there.

His face seemed to settle, "I only meant, did I upset you last week? With my rudeness."

I really could get used to that voice.

"Yes," I said. Wait, what? I answered him. Honestly?!

His face became thoughtful.

"Why?" he asked, considering.

"Why?" I repeated. "Because I am not accustomed to perfect strangers looking at me like they want to kill me when I have done nothing wrong. That's why."

His eyes were on mine. I couldn't remember seeing them move; they were just on mine. He looked so serious and so still.

"You're right," he said. "You did nothing wrong."

I thought about how his sentence was worded.

"But I did something?" I asked.

He snapped his tongue, "Not as such."

"Then why?" I asked.

His chest swelled, as though he were taking a deep breath, but I didn't hear any air pass through his nose.

"I can't explain," he said, sounding almost sad.

"You don't have to explain," I said, feeling suddenly like I was meddling in his life, at the same time as I wanted to.

His lips turned up in one corner… was… was he smiling?!

"I only mean that there isn't really a way to adequately convey it," he said. "Not with my limitations. Like speech and such."

"You could try," I hedged, feeling decidedly eager for some reason.

"You would simply think I am mad," he said. From the context, I got that he didn't mean angry.

"No I wouldn't," I protested.

I looked to see his eyes on me, looking at my face. It wasn't nearly as intense as before, or at least, not in the same way. There was a sort of vulnerability in his eyes, as though he was looking at my face to seek some sign that I was being honest with him, that he might trust me.

"Would you not?" he said so quietly, the whisper shivered its way down to my toes and back to my hair again.

"Why did you come here?" he asked.

I was so off-kilter with his dark eyes and open expression, I answered again without filtering my thoughts.

"My mother remarried," I said.

He processed this new information.

"Are congratulations in order?" he asked.

"Yeah, yes," I said quickly. "Phil is great. Good for my mother. He is young, and Mom is young at heart. I think he will need some time to understand that she doesn't always make the best decisions and that she often needs a lot of help, but he cares enough about her to get there."

"So," he surmised. "He is someone you approve of. That offers even less explanation as to why you moved here, some place where you are clearly unhappy."

"I am perfectly happy, thank you very much," I said scathingly.

He chuckled.

It was the most amazing and fascinating thing I had ever witnessed in my entire life. His black eyes danced, the animation in his face glorious and wondrous, the sort of thing that draws the eye and holds it better than a masterful artwork. His smile was stunning, his teeth perfect and perfectly white. His previous beauty was nothing compared with this. My sight grayed and darkened at the edges again. And that was just a chuckle. Had he laughed, I really would have passed out.

"I would not argue with a lady," he said. "I will but let your tone speak for itself."

It wasn't fair. How could I even have a conversation with him!? I realized that if I wanted to have an actually coherent dialogue with him, I would need practice, and that idea was very much to my liking.

"Okay," I admitted, "I am not a fan of the weather."

"Then why come here?" he asked.

"Phil travels for work," I said.

"What is his profession?" he asked politely.

"He plays baseball," I said, feeling embarrassed to have to admit that.

"So he traveled and your mother stayed with you," he said.

"No," I said. "I wouldn't let her. They would settle down eventually, but Phil needs to find a team first. Until then, I wasn't going to split up the newlyweds."

His eyes went wide, "You? Your mother didn't…?"

"No," I said a bit harshly, not liking his insinuation.

"But why?"

"I told you," my tone still a bit haughty from his previous comment. "I wasn't going to get between them."

"You mean to say," he said, sounding disbelieving, "that you moved in with your father in a place you are unhappy, simply to preserve you mother's happiness?"

"Yeah," I said between clenched teeth, facing front.

He was quiet a moment.

"That seems rather backwards, don't you think?" he asked rhetorically. "Shouldn't your mother be the one to make sacrifices for you?"

I turned to glare at him.

"What my family and I do is no business of yours," I said hotly. "I don't need your judgment or your condescension. Why are you even talking to me?"

"You interest me," he said, as honest and bluntly as I had answered so many of his questions. I was having problems with locating the lungs again.

"I'm not that interesting," I mumbled, picking at the corner of my textbook.

"I disagree," he said easily. "However, I can see that I insulted you. That was not my intent. My most gracious apologies."

"Finished already?" asked Mr. Banner. I nearly jumped out of my seat.

"Yes," said Edward. He offered the paper to our teacher. I took the opportunity to remember that I was in school.

"Next time," said Mr. Banner, "perhaps you can let your partner do some of her own work."

Edward's face was completely blank.

"She identified three of the five before I did," he said. "Correctly and without aid of any kind."

Mr. Banner looked at me, I was glad that I was too embarrassed to be angry and too angry to be embarrassed. Otherwise, I would be beet red.

"Is that true?" Mr. Banner asked.

"Yes, sir," I said, feeling like my tongue was too thick and was competing for space in my mouth with at least a half dozen marbles.

He looked rightly put in his place. He mumbled something as he walked away. This time, Edward's chuckle was dark. It wasn't nearly as overwhelming, but it was just as fascinating.

"What is so funny?" I asked.

"I don't understand you at all," he said. "I like it."

After how obvious my every move was to my mother, this sort of surprised me.

"That's strange," I said. "My mother says I'm an open book, my face is so easy to read."

He shook his head, "I don't often have to be good at understanding people. People are usually very simple to understand. You… aren't."

What did that even mean? I was hard to understand? Was that a good thing? It didn't sound like a good thing.

Then, looking at him as I was, I remembered the truth. It wasn't exactly like he and I could be friends. His league and my league was so vastly different places, I might was well be back in Phoenix.

I opened my book and began to read, and he didn't disturb me for the rest of class. As soon as the bell rang, I got up. He remained seated as I gather up my things, and I resolutely turned my back on him and walked out of class without another word. As I walked out, I risked a darting glance to him. He was still sitting there, looking at me walk away, an expression tinged with regret and concern and bewilderment. I marched to Gym, past a questioning Mike and trying to figure out why this sucked so much.


	4. Chapter 4: Phenomenon

The next morning I awoke to eerie quiet. No wind through the eaves, no drops on the roof; all was still, as if waiting. I got out of bed quicker than usual. I had made up my mind the night before. It didn't matter if Edward and I couldn't be in the same social circles. We had Biology together, and that was already more than I had before. I was going to do the more mature thing and be grateful for what I had. I could have less. Okay, so maybe I was holding on to the hope that he might actually find me interesting, as weird as that was, but what if he was telling the truth? I mean, weirder things had happened, right?

I was shrugging into my coat as I stepped outside and as soon as my foot touched the sidewalk, I was skating into the patch of grass between the walk and the driveway. I managed to fall mostly on my coat and not completely drench myself in the process. I got shakily to my feet and looked back. The sidewalk was layered in a fine film of salt and slushy ice. I looked out at the road and realized that the slush and the rain from the previous day had frozen over in the night. I hadn't realized it was that cold, since I hadn't been here long enough to really distinguish between the intensities of freezing to death.

I used one of my sleeves to brush the damp off of the front of my coat before I shrugged deeper into it, then carefully walked the distance to my truck, keeping my eyes zeroed in on the ground just in front of and under my feet. As soon as I was in, I drove at about two thirds of the usual pace I took to school, which meant I arrived at about the same time as everyone else.

As soon as I parked, I saw a student skate on one heel across a patch of ice, which looked really impressive, standing on one leg and all, until he lost his balance and went down. He seemed to think it was hilarious along with everyone else. I was considering just driving to the hospital now and saving myself the embarrassment. Sucking it up, I got out of my truck.

I was walking around the truck when something gleaming at my tire caught my attention. I thought for a moment that I had run over a bit of chain-link fence, but it was too perfect to be anything but purposeful. I had chains on my tire, all my tires. My driving had been slow, but thinking about it, I didn't have any trouble at all getting to school, driving on icy roads for the first time. It didn't make any sense. How…?

I wasn't sure what registered first, the squealing tires or the black mass I saw out of the corner of my eye. I turned, and everything seemed to slow down. Tyler was driving a black van, going way too fast. He looked as though he were trying to stop, to turn the wheel, to do something, anything, but he had lost control. He was looking right at me, and he looked utterly terrified. It was only then that I caught how the van was sliding and realized that it was heading right for me.

There was nothing I could do. Even if I had more warning and the ground wasn't slick with ice, I doubted there was much I could have done. I very much doubted that I could survive this large vehicle bearing down on me. Three simple words entered my brain; this is it.

I had no idea what came over me or how I knew, but I turned and, almost as though I had known exactly where to look, found the pair of dark eyes I wanted. He was looking at me, an expression of disbelief quickly being soaked through with horror. I wasn't afraid. That surprised me. The only thing I felt was regret. Sure I didn't want to die, but in the moment, what I wanted most, what I would mind losing the most, was not being able to in that chair for Biology. But holding on to that woe was going to soil my last few moments on this earth. I let go. I closed my eyes. I lo-

Something was there. Cool hands were upon me, on my shoulders. I remembered them, but couldn't recall from where. I was lifted carefully off the ground, into the air, but there was something about the grip that gave me the impression that this was the least amount of force necessary and that if the owner of those hands had chosen, I could have been flung with far greater force if he had willed it. I lost track of the world around me, my vision filled with sky, then trees as I turned through the air. And then I was in the bed of my truck. I landed with barely any impact and just had enough time to look up.

Edward was standing next to my truck, right where I had been. He was looking down at me, as though concerned. His eyes intent on me, he didn't see what I was seeing. The school was completely blocked from view, by the oncoming van.

"Edward!" I found myself screaming, horror-stricken. And I watched as the van smashed squarely sidelong into my truck, bouncing off, jarring the whole thing and me along with it. And with Edward irrevocably between them.

He disappeared from view, and as soon as the truck settled, I climbed warily out. He was lying between the two vehicles, and I expected to see him in a puddle of his own blood, mangle or his body at unnatural angles. Instead, he was simply lying there, almost peacefully.

"Edward," I said shakily. I knelt beside him, and until that moment, he didn't seem to be in pain at all. But as I leaned towards him, he hissed as though he were being stitched.

"Don't get to close," he whispered.

"Are you alright?" I asked, my voice tremulous.

"I am fine," he said quietly, his voice strangely authoritative. "I just fainted. Anemic."

He relaxed, his breath sliding out of him, "Don't get… too close…."

I was positively frantic, but I did as he said.

That is when they got to us.

There was much screaming and a teacher came to lead me back from Edward, whoever it was, they didn't have much of a choice but to lift me and carry me back.

"Is he okay?" I asked as they got me clear. "Is he okay?!"

"He's breathing," said Coach Clapp. "He has a pulse. Shallow but it's there."

I quit caring. He was okay. He was okay? I saw him. Before the van hit and everything shook violently; he was right there, right where the van hit. It was impossible.

"Are you alright?" someone asked, and I got the impression it wasn't the first time.

"I'm fine," I said. "How is he?"

"He look pretty banged up," said a teacher, one I didn't have a class with. "He has a pretty big cut on his face. He is lucky he didn't kill anyone."

It took me a moment to realize they weren't talking about Edward. I slipped the teacher's grasp and came back to sit beside him. I stayed towards his feet, but still could have reached out to touch his foot if I really wanted to, to reassure myself that he was still here. It made me feel better.

"What happened?" some vice principal type asked at my shoulder, and from the lack of response, I gathered he was talking to me.

"I was by my truck when the van came at me," I said. "Edward was there and he pushed me into my truck bed. I am not sure what happened to him but when I got to him, he was still conscious. He said he fainted and then he was out again."

"He has a rare form of anemia," said Mr. Banner, who I hadn't realized was kneeling by Edward's shoulder. "All the Cullen kids do. That is part of the reason why the Doc adopted them."

Two ambulances pulled up then and while one loaded Tyler, the other loaded Edward into it. As they did, I climbed inside after him.

"Where are you going?" the EMT asked me.

"To the hospital," I said. Thinking quickly, I added, "I think I hit my head."

He looked at me like he was pretty sure I was lying then his eyebrows went up.

"You're Isabella, right?" he asked.

"Bella," I sighed.

He nodded. Apparently, the risk of taking the Police Chief's daughter to the hospital when she didn't need it outweighed the risk of not taking her when she might.

"Sit tight," he said, pointing to a spot to sit.

I did. I was barely aware of us moving, or them hanging a unit of blood and hooking up an I.V. I did notice when there was suddenly a familiar police cruiser behind us, and I was even more aware when Edward started moving.

"Are you okay?" he asked, just loud enough for us to hear. His eyes were still closed.

"I'm fine," I said again, then with a look from the EMT, I backtracked, "I mean, I might have… hit my head."

He snorted.

"I see," he said. "I am glad. Glad you are alright."

"Can I have you open your eyes for me, Ed?" asked the EMT.

"I would really rather have my father examine me, Bill," he said.

"I need to make sure-," he began.

"I fainted," said Edward. "Nothing about that is life threatening. I have no head injury, but you are welcome to probe my skull if you don't believe me. If anything life threatening presents itself, you have my full permission to take whatever steps you need to in order to save my life. Otherwise, I will wait for my father."

The EMT met the eyes of the driver in the rearview mirror. She shrugged and nodded.

"Okay," he said. The EMT moved over to me.

"Do you really have a head injury?" he asked.

"I might," I said weakly. "It all happened so fast."

He checked me over, quickly as we began finishing our approach.

"You seem just fine to me," he said, "You can check yourself into the E.R. if you want. I will put you down as a passenger in the log. No more free rides, though, understand?"

"Believe me," I said with a half snort, "the next time I am in one of these, it will be by necessity."

"I hope not," he said, disconcerted.

The ambulance pulled up to the small local hospital that seemed to be more than half maternity. I was two steps out of the back when Charlie appeared out of nowhere.

"What happened?" he nearly demanded, and I was pulled this way and that as he roughly looked me over.

"I've fine!" I said for the fortieth time before he stopped inspecting me dispassionately and finally looked at my face.

"I am fine," I said once more. "Edward got me out of the way in time. He fainted, and they are just taking me in to make sure I didn't have a head injury."

"She's probably fine, Chief," the EMT said. "She doesn't have any signs of trauma. Do you still want the doc to check her out?"

Charlie said "Yes" at the same time I said "No!", and though my comment was louder, I wasn't a police chief, so I stomped rather huffily into the ER.

Edward was brought in quickly and put into a bed beside mine, and by mine, I mean the one that Charlie made me sit on until the doctor came to see me. Tyler was there too, stable and with a large amount of gauze taped to his face, he kept muttering something and trying to talk to us, but he was far enough away and injured enough that what came out of his mouth was pretty unintelligible.

My eyes never left Edward. He lay very still, his eyes closed, and every time I considered saying something, he sighed and resettled himself, and I felt compelled into silence again. So focused on him was I that I didn't noticed the doctor's arrival until he was close enough to touch me.

"Hello, Ms. Swan," he said congenially. "How are we feeling today?"

I looked at him. He was intensely handsome, with straight blonde hair that was swept perfectly back and forest green eyes that almost uniform in color. He gave me a welcoming smile, and I was somehow immediately at ease in a way I usually wasn't around doctors. Granted, I was usually in a lot more pain when I was this close to one and about to be in more.

"I'm fine," I said. "I wasn't hurt at all. Can I go?"

"A moment," he said, inspecting my head briefly, "May I?"

I tilted my head forward in consent, and his gentle fingers ran through my hair and felt for any bumps or tender areas.

"How is your neck?" he asked. "Your back? Any pinching or pain or numbness?"

"Nope," I said. "I might have a bruise on one hip, but I have had worse."

He found the area with a careful thumb. He covertly step between me and the room at large and lifted the smallest corner of my shirt to see the bruise.

"As you say," he said, place the cloth down again, "it is not much of a concern. Use some ice when you get home if it begins to swell. Other than that, you are free to go."

I looked over to see my dad filling out paperwork at the front desk. I turned back and the doctor was gone. I was confused, until I saw that the curtain had been drawn around Edward. I thought I heard a muffled squeak, a bit like a shoe scuffing on linoleum tile. But, considering that was what the floor was made of and that there were people walking on it, that didn't really surprise me. In less time than it took to inspect me, the doctor opened the curtains and was walking out, putting the stethoscope back around his neck.

I was about to move to talk to Edward when I saw that he was up, looking as though he need a hospital less than I did. I stepped forward and he gave me a hard look. I stopped just short of our mutual grasps, so that if he and I both reached, we wouldn't have brushed fingertips.

"You're okay?" I asked.

"Of course," he said. "I told you I was."

"But…" I said, having trouble not dropping my eyes to his lower torso, to look out for any sign of the fact that I had just seen him sandwiched between a truck and a van.

"But what?" he asked, almost demanded.

I looked around. No one was nearby. I stepped to one side, moving further away from everyone else without getting closer to him. When I found his eyes again, he had that intent look on his face again, but this time, it was tinged with confusion, concern, and dismay.

"You were hit," I whispered, so low I wasn't sure he heard me. After a long pause, he said, "What makes you say that?"

"Because I saw it," I said.

He took a deep breath.

"Do I look like someone who was hit by a car to you?" he asked, his words hard.

"No," I said.

"Then you must be mistaken," he said, his words focused, every syllable sharp and pronounced.

I was cowed, but it only lasted a moment.

"It's not possible," I said.

"You're right," he said, just as hard, "it's not."

"No," I said. "You were across the parking lot. You were across the parking lot, and then you were there. You would have had to have been moving faster than the van. And you lifted me into the back of the truck, but you could have thrown me over the van just as easily. And… and…"

I could see it clearly. He was standing there, next to the truck, his attention completely upon me. He had just lifted me out of the way of the van. He had to know that it was coming. And yet, that didn't matter. His entire focus had been on me, a look of concern for me, my safety. Which meant, either he knew that he wouldn't be hurt by a van hitting him, or that he….

"You knew," I stated as fact. "You knew that it wouldn't hurt you."

His expression flared, reminding me of the first time he looked at me, but not so extreme.

"Do you have any idea how crazy you sound right now?" he said. "Maybe I should have my father in here again to order a KAT scan."

"I didn't hit my head," I said.

"That's what people will assume if you go telling everyone your insane, inane theory," he said, waving a hand that could have been me spouting out about this or the people dismissing my words.

I felt the shock and blood flood my face.

"I wasn't going to tell anyone," I said, hating how small and quiet and hurt my voice sounded. Did he really think that I would betray him like that, that I would just…

He looked even more angry, "Then what is the point? Why are you trying to get some story out of me, blowing this up into something unbelievable, if not to tell it?"

"I want to-" I started, then tried again, "I wanted to know."

There was no way I was going to keep going and add the "you" to the end of that sentence.

"You already know the only course of events that anyone will believe," he said. "I pushed you out of the way, and I fainted."

There was an edge to his voice. He sounded as though he didn't like that story any better than I did.

"You did," I said, my voice softening, "push me. You saved me."

This only seemed to irritate him further.

"You shouldn't believe that I am some great hero," he said. "It isn't as though I…"

His voice trailed off, his expression leaving his face as the words fell away. But then, the stone look came back.

"What were you even thinking?" he all but spat at me. "A large vehicle was careening at you and all you could do was stare? Have you no brains at all? Any concept of self preservation? Since you have come here, your presence has been nothing but a torment to me! Why don't you just go home!?"

I swallowed. I wasn't sure what my face was doing, but it seemed to convince Edward to not continue.

"I didn't-" I began, but my voice was too shaky for me to continue. I stopped, and started over after a deep breath. By that time, the ache his words had inspired had morphed itself into a smoldering anger.

"You're a jerk," I said harshly.

He flinched, unsure.

"Grow up," I said, and walked away before he saw the angry tears.

Charlie didn't ask why I looked upset as he drove me back to the school. I had an ironclad excuse he already knew. When we got there, the wrecker had arrived for Tyler's van.

"How bad is it?" Charlie asked as we go out, surveying the scene he hadn't seen yet.

"Front axle is broke," said the wrecker's driver. "Engine is off it's mount and in pretty bad shape. Frame's bent pretty good. It's totaled for sure. I'm taken her down to salvage."

"He's lucky to still have a license," Charlie grumbled.

"Dad," I said in true teenage exasperation, I walked over to look at my truck.

"She's fine," the driver said, taking us in. "Her back fender has a dent, the rusted paint is a bit more chipped, but other than that, she doesn't seem to be any worse for wear. Pretty lucky. I could give you a good price on repairs."

I looked to Charlie, who was looking to me. Right; my truck.

"I can come by later for an estimate," I said.

He chuckled, "Certainly, but keep in mind that if you aren't interested, you are going to have to drive to Seattle for another deal."

I nodded. Honestly, I was perfectly alright with leaving it as it was, but I didn't want to be rude, unlike some jerks.

Once the wrecker was out of the way, Charlie looked me over again for what felt like the six hundredth time.

"Are you going in?" he asked.

I looked at the school. It looked half empty. I guess it was all too much excitement for anyone to want to go to class. I thought of what sort of reception I would have, being back after all that, and with less students around to take the focus off me.

"Not unless you make me," I said, walking towards the truck.

"You aren't driving that home," Charlie said.

I whipped around, "I am fine. The truck is fine. There is no reason I can't drive it. I will see you at home!"

I didn't mean the words to come out quite so harsh, but I had had a rotten day and this wasn't helping. I was in the truck before Charlie could say another word. I drove home at about fifteen miles an hour, with the cruiser behind me the whole way, the hazards blinking the entire time. I figured that this was the best concession I could hope for.

Once I was out of the truck and Charlie was walking in with me, I apologized.

"I'm sorry," I said demurely. "This morning has been rough, and I wasn't in a mood to be told what I could and couldn't do."

Charlie nodded.

"I get that," he said, stepping down as though to tie his shoe. But instead, he started taking the chains off my tires.

"And I am not entirely used to having you be back yet," he said as he took them off, a tire at a time, "let alone back and dodging out of control vans. I will try to lighten up too, but I would appreciate it if you looked after yourself so I don't have to worry."

He had done it. He had put the chains on my tires. After what had happened, I understood why. He was taking care of me. He was doing the best he could to take care of me, and I was screaming at him. Great, now I was the jerk.

"I will," I said, trying not to sound too placating. "I promise."

So, naturally, as I turned towards the house, her said the one thing that could take away all the good dad points he had just banked with me.

"Call your mother," he said before I could get to the door.

I froze before turning slowly back to him.

"Dad," I said, my words faltering, "you- didn't!"

"No, I didn't," he said, and I let out a breath of relief. All I needed was to calm down my hysterical mother. Charlie had been trying enough, and she made him look practically indifferent.

"But you know your mother," he added as he passed me to unlock the house and walk inside.

He was right. Again. Dang it. Mom couldn't remember her email password half the time, but I wouldn't be surprised if she found out how to get a digital copy of the school newspaper sent to her. She was quirky like that.

I walked inside, picked up the phone and carried it to my room, and with a deep breath, dialed.

"Hello?" came Mom's voice.

"Hi mom," I said.

"Bella?" I could already hear the tremor in her voice. "What's wrong? Why aren't you in school? Oh god, what happened?!"

"Mom, Mom!" I finally cut it. "Breath Mom. Sit down. Are you sitting?!"

"What happened?" she demanded.

"Mother," I said, affecting calm. "I will tell you what happened, but you will breath and you will sit calmly by while I do or I won't say a word."

She huffed and I could almost hear her foot bobbing over her crossed leg as she sat there.

I recounted the entire thing, except I left out all the bits about Edward getting smashed. However, I didn't have to say a thing about our fight afterward for her to pluck it out of the air.

"So what aren't you telling me about this guy?" she asked. I was in shock. But, then again, she was my mother.

"What?" I asked, dumbfounded.

"You can't hide a thing from me, honey," she said. "Something about this is bothering you, something you think is unfair. It is hard to tell over the phone. Did you have a fight?"

I shook my head, "Someday you are going to have to tell me how you do that…"

"Secret mom stuff," she said. "It would help if you were a better liar. Good that you're not, but still."

"He…" I tried to say, then caved.

"He's a jerk," I said.

"Language," my mother said sarcastically. "What did he do?"

"It doesn't matter," I said.

"I doubt that very much," said Mom. "What did he say?"

"Something about me being a torment ever since I got here," I said.

"Oh," she said. "I see."

"Uh," I said. "See what?"

"Nothing," said Mom quickly. "Tell me, how much has he talked to you?"

"He hasn't, really," I said. "He left school the day I got here and just got back yesterday."

"Did he talk to you on the first day?" she asked.

"No," I said, "why?"

"So," she said, "he has only spoken to you the one day? Well, two, I guess now."

"Yeah," I said, and tried again, "why?"

"What was he doing the first time you saw him?" she asked.

I was starting to get irritated, "Writing in a notebook. What is going on?"

"Alone?" she asked.

"Yes!" I said loudly. "Mother!"

She was quiet a long moment.

"What did you do when you fought?" she asked.

This part I didn't mind telling her, "Called him a jerk and told him to grow up."

She laughed, "Perfect! Just perfect!"

"What is?!" I demanded.

"Here is what you do," she said. "Pay attention."

"Okay," I said.

"No, not to me," she said, her voice high before dropping to a more serious tone as she continued. "To him. Be subtle about it. Wait until you think he wouldn't have any reason to look at you, then check to see if he is."

"Why?" I asked. "Then what?"

"Oh no," Mom said. "You're on your own."

"Mother!" I almost screeched.

"This is something you have to figure out on your own," she said. "Life is like that sometimes. I can't just give you the answers or you won't learn anything."

"You are infuriating sometimes," I said through gritted teeth.

"I love you too," she said pleasantly and hung up.

I spent the rest of the day reading ahead in all my books, trying to do anything to keep my mind off of what had happened and from wondering what tomorrow would be like. I didn't say a word to my father all through dinner, though he stared at me the entire time. By the time I was in bed, I couldn't make up my mind whether I wanted to stay or go home to Phoenix.


	5. Chapter 5: Invitations

The next day at school, I wasn't even halfway across the parking lot when I was beset by concerned students. It seemed rather obvious that more students held the opinion that Edward was a person better left alone and that I was therefore their best avenue for recounts and or gossip. Unfortunately, once I had told Jessica why I hadn't been in the path of the van, I noticed a massive uptick in the number of girls who wanted to hear "how Edward Cullen had saved me".

I tried my best to make the story as factual as possible. They didn't seem to care at all that he fainted, so I knew that wouldn't get gossiped about at least, if that was what he was worried about. I didn't say anything about him getting hit, because I knew that he wouldn't want me to and I was prepared to do everything in my power to prove that he could trust me.

It was right before lunch when what that meant really dawned on me; he didn't trust me. He thought that I was going to tell everyone about how he had done something impossible, something that he obviously didn't want anyone to know about, and he had no trust that I would actually be quiet about it. To me, that said he had never had anyone in his life, except maybe his family, who had ever been trustworthy. I wasn't sure if that was more sad because people had treated him so poorly his entire life or because he had given up on the idea that people could be trusted.

As expected, when Jess and I got to the cafeteria, he was sitting alone. He wasn't looking up from his book. His family seemed no different, oblivious as they usually were. I had just enough time between recounting my story to actually wolf down some food before it was time for Biology.

I wasn't sure what to do. When I walked into the door, he was there, first as always. He was stiff and still and made zero effort to acknowledge my existence. I decided to be the bigger person.

"Hello, Edward," I said, sitting down.

He, if anything, got even stiffer. He recrossed his arms and then became motionless for the entire class, utterly immobile. He never said anything, he never did anything. He just sat there, suffering in silence.

This continued for weeks. I stopped saying hello by the end of the first week. The gossip and the conversations stopped. More than one rumor got back to me, that the two of us might start dating, which was completely insane, but by the time the news of how he was acting towards me got around, the rumor ended, along with the vicarious pleasure of more than a few girls I knew.

"It's just too bad," Jess said once, "but, maybe he might start dating soon anyway. You never know!"

I did know. He wasn't going to date, not when he had so completely given up on trusting people. You couldn't date without trust and not when you were so unhappy. And he was unhappy. Happy people didn't behave the way he did. At first, I did want to give him the benefit of the doubt, allow that something in his history might have caused his anger, his rudeness towards me. I wanted to believe that I really wasn't causing him the torment he claimed. But with every passing day, his posture and behavior never changed, never ceased. I was left with only one conclusion. He would rather blame me for his unhappiness than to do something about it. He was choosing to suffer, and I wasn't about to take the blame for that.

Having Edward off my radar seemed to thrill Mike to no end. He spent time with me most days, walking me to Government and Gym, occasionally chatting with me before our classes started. He was a nice guy to have around, easygoing and quick to laugh. Once the weather started to warm up, he said he was looking forward to getting a group of people together for a beach trip. I said I would love to go, especially since he said he was waiting until we got our first sunny weekend. I was looking forward to it immensely.

Then, one Tuesday night more than a month since Edward has spoken to me, not that I was counting, Jess called me out of the blue.

"Hey, Just Bella," she said. "It's Jess."

"I know who it is," I said smiling. "Only two people have called here since I moved back, and you aren't my mom."

"Oh," she said. "We need to get you a social life!"

I chuckled, "What can I do for you Jess?"

"Speaking of getting you a social life," she said, "are you asking anyone to the Spring Formal? It's girl's choice, ya know?"

"Formal what?" I asked.

"The dance!" she said, sounding as though she was having to explain what two plus two was.

"Oh," I said. "I wasn't planning on going. And isn't the concept of girl's choice a little bit-"

"Don't even start with the whole feminist, girl-power thing," she said hastily. "It's fun! Why aren't you going?"

"I don't dance," I said honestly.

"You don't go to a dance to dance," she said. "You go to have fun!"

"Really," I said. "Me dancing would likely involve another trip to the ER. I would be much better off just staying home."

"Okay," she said. "If you say so."

There was a short pause.

"So…" she said slowly, "you don't mind if I ask Mike to the dance then?"

"No," I said offhandedly. So this was why she was calling.

"You really don't mind?" she asked.

"Should I?" I asked.

"No," she said, backpedaling. "I just mean, you two seem rather… friendly, lately."

"That's probably because we are friends," I said, putting emphasis on that last word. "Go ahead and ask him, Jess. I hope you both have a great time."

The next day, I was fully prepared to congratulate Jess, but when we got to Trig, she was quiet and didn't say anything to me at all through lunch. When the group was together, it was easy to see the strain going on between her and Mike.

When we got to Biology, I finally got my answer.

Mike was chatting with me, as he sometimes did, but this time, he was continuing on when the conversation was running on fumes, not wanting to find his seat. I was about to ask when he finally spit it out.

"Jessica asked me to the spring dance," he said, not even with any sort of lead up to the comment.

"That's great," I said.

Immediately his face fell.

"I told her I would have to think about it," he said quietly.

"Why did you say that?" I asked, feeling put off. This explained everything.

"Well," he said. "I was sort of hoping that you could ask me."

Okay, so maybe there was something to why Jess said we had been friendly. Just because I wasn't interested in Mike like that didn't mean the vice versa wasn't true.

"Mike," I said, and his face fell even further.

"You should go with Jess," I said. "You two will have a good time."

"Someone already asked you?" he asked rather rhetorically.

"I'm not going," I said, having thought up this excuse because it was true and I needed one. "I am planning on a day trip to Seattle that Saturday. I won't be getting back until late that night, and I definitely won't be up for dancing after such a trip."

I won't be up for dancing before such a trip, but why bring that up?

"Oh," he said lamely.

"Mike, really," I said, with emphasis, "I say this as your friend; go with Jess. I hope you two crazy kids have tons of fun. Spike the punch. Do whatever you small-town Juniors do for kicks at your formals."

He actually smiled, "If you do end up going, I'll save you a dance."

I watched him go, feeling happy. They would have fun. Jess will get what she wants, and Mike and I will have a solid foundation for a good friendship. It was all I really wanted.

I don't know why it occurred to me then, but now was the time; this was the time, the time my mother had mentioned, the time when I wasn't expecting it. I turned, and his dark eyes were on mine.

If you had asked me before that moment if I missed his eyes, I might have laughed. I might have said that it was stupid to miss them, since they were attached to a boy who chose to be rude and selfish and blaming and suffer, that I wouldn't have thought it was possible to feel anything but more irritation toward him at that point. But as I lost myself in the depths of those dark, fathomless eyes, I felt like something was easing in me, almost like coming home. I relaxed into his gaze, looking upon his face, a face only an idiot would say was not worth looking at. He was still rude but he was so beautiful, and as much as I didn't want to admit it, I really wanted to forgive him.

He didn't look away. Even as Mr. Banner asked some question and Edward answered, he still didn't take his eyes off me. I couldn't look away, didn't want to look away. I wanted to be angry and to hold this grudge and tell him he was a jerk all over again, but in that moment, I couldn't hold onto any of that. All I knew was that-

"I'm sorry," said Mr. Banner, "perhaps I should wait until everyone is PAYING ATTENTION!"

I jumped in my seat, looking towards the front of the room.

"Mr. Cullen?" he asked.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Edward finally look forward too. Even called out, even culled as I had been, he hadn't looked away from me. That thought made my insides squirm.

When the bell rang, I was gathering up my book when…

"Bella."

Oh, but I had missed that voice, more so than I would have thought possible. It wasn't that it sounded so lovely, which it did, but there was an entirely different note to it now, as though the way he spoke in class and the way he spoke to me were two entirely different creatures. I knew which I preferred.

Reluctantly, I turned, "Yes?"

He looked resigned. I felt something sink within me. Nothing had changed. Not really.

"Don't," I said. "Just… don't bother."

"What?" he replied. "Why?"

"Look," I said, "I don't know what has happened to you in your past. It isn't any of my business. And I don't know what I did that made you feel tormented, and frankly, I don't really care. What matters is that you have a choice."

I found his eyes, and my words bobbled until I found my pace again.

"And you chose to treat me like a burden to you, as though it would have been more convenient to you if you had just let that van crush me instead."

I finished gathering my books, "I don't care what your excuses are, I didn't deserve that."

I turned and walked away. I tripped over something, or perhaps it was my own two feet, but I didn't have time to catch my books before they were on the floor. I sighed, bending to pick them up, my hand brushing an unusually cold one. I nearly fell, jumping back while kneeling, and wasn't sure why I didn't end up on the ground. He was so close to me, gathering my books and proffering them on one upturned hand.

"You are right," he said as I took them back. "What I did was not only rude, but shameful. What I did was wrong, but what I was trying to do wasn't. I regret the discomfort I have caused you, and I would be remiss if I were to cause you anymore. As much as I…"

He looked away.

"It would be best for you," he said, "if you never spoke to me again. It is better this way, please believe me."

I couldn't help but laugh. It wasn't a happy sound.

"You expect me to trust you," I said harshly, "when you won't return me the same courtesy?"

He came up short.

"You think I don't trust you?" he asked.

"I know you don't," I said. "Otherwise, I would know why I was lying for you."

His expression was so conflicted it was almost comical.

"That is what I thought," I said.

Before I could walk away, he muttered, "You are the most-"

I turned around.

"What?" I asked. He closed his expression to me.

"What?" I asked again. "I am the most what?"

"You are the most infuriating girl I have ever met," he said, attempting to remain dignified as he marched out of the room with a grace that was unfair, considering how I was feeling about him at the moment.

"It's not like the feeling is mutual or anything," I muttered.

Gym was even more disastrous than it always was, since most sports allowed you to do something with your hands and run separately and basketball required you to do both at once. And my already horrible play was so poor that I almost injured other players as well as myself, made all the worse when they were my own team. I swear I heard Coach Clapp mutter something about just passing me and having me do homework on the sidelines. I told myself that my worse than usual playing had nothing to do with a certain infuriating boy of whom I was not thinking about incessantly. By the end of Gym, I was not feeling any less annoyed.

I had nearly strangled myself trying to get the stupid Gym T-shirt off when I finally managed to get back into my usual clothes and was heading to my truck when I stopped short. Someone was standing next to it, and for a moment, I was about ready to start screaming, until I saw that it was Eric.

"Hey," I said, walking up.

He looked nervous, glancing around as if looking for someone.

"Can I help you with something?" I asked.

"Huh?" he said dully, "What? I mean, no. I mean, yes! I was just, you know…"

He mumbled that last bit.

"What was that?" I asked.

"I was just wondering," he said. "Where you going to ask you- me! Ask me, I mean."

"Ask you what?" I asked wearily. What was this?

"To the dance… thing," he said.

It took me a moment to get it.

"You wanted to know if I was going to ask you to the dance?" I asked, incredulous.

"Um… yeah," he said.

"I wasn't planning to," I said politely, though with the day I was having, it might not have sounded that way.

"Do you not want to?" he asked.

"No," I said, but then saw how much his face fell.

"No!" I said. "I don't mean I don't want to ask you. Well, I don't want to ask you, but not because of you. I don't want to ask anyone. I don't really dance, and I am not even going to be in town that night, so…"

It was my turn to trail off. He didn't look exactly mollified, but my words at least gave him the excuse to retreat he had been looking for.

"Oh," he said. "Okay. Thanks."

He turned and positively fled, nearly running down Edward, standing a small distance away.

"What do you want?" I barked at him.

Something in his expression softened, but he just looked at me. Softly. My heart didn't start racing. Nope, not at all. He was just looking at me, as though that was all that he wanted, to look at me. It was crazy! I had to get into my truck before I did something stupid, like blush, or deck him.

Once in the truck, I didn't fare much better. He walked up to the window and tapped on it. I was wondering how I could back up enough to run him down and still make it look like an accident. I bet if he would walk away from one accident, a little nudge wouldn't hurt him. A forty mile an hour nudge.

I turned the window crank, against my better judgment.

"What?" I asked, not looking at him. It was easier to stay mad that way.

"I owe you an apology," he said.

I came up short.

"Just stop," I said. "It is an accident when you are rude the first time. It is a trend when you do it the second time. I am not going to put up with you treating me like dirt."

"I know," he said quickly, but then stopped.

I looked at him. He had his elbow resting on the window frame, one fist clasped loosely in his other hand, both propped under his chin while his eyes were downcast. They then found mine.

"I won't bother denying that I am not telling you everything," he said. "What would be the point? And I won't bother trying to defend my actions because I would only be doing so because I want you to think well of me. And you shouldn't."

That shut me up. I just stared at him.

"I am not staying away from you for my sake," he said. "I am staying away for yours."

Now, I was totally confused.

"I am not going to explain," he said, "but I don't want to just give you excuses anymore. You aren't a burden. I-"

He seemed to come back to himself, stepping back.

"I believe I do want you to think well of me," he said, as though the very notion baffled him. "But if you were to act in your own best interests, you should never speak to me again. You deserve better."

He turned and walked away, just brushing past Tyler who was walking up.

"What was that about?" he asked, watching Edward walk away.

"I have no earthly idea," I admitted. He smiled at me, and something about his posture drew my attention to him.

"He wasn't asking if you were going to ask him to the spring dance too, was he?" he asked roguishly.

"No, I-" I began, but his words sunk in. "What?!"

This could not be happening to me! What the heck was going on?!

Tyler gave me a somewhat charismatic smile, but it was the sort of smile worn by someone who was used to getting his way.

"Would you ask me to the spring formal next Saturday?" he asked.

I had never been asked to a dance in my life. Now, I had been asked out three times in a single day! Were the pickings really so slim here!?

"I will not be in town that day," I said in consternation.

"And that isn't just an excuse until the right guy comes along?" he asked, a knowing look in his eye.

"No!" I expounded, "why won't anyone believe me?"

"Hey," he said grandly, unfazed, "no worries! There is always prom."

He bopped the jam of my open window and walked away. I was fuming so badly, I couldn't get the window to roll up. Despite that, I was determined to scream, so instead of breaking the damn thing, I settled on turning on my engine. It drowned out my cries frustrations nicely. As I finally backed out of the space, I found that there was a nice Silver Volvo behind me. It was the nicest car in the lot, so naturally, Edward was behind the wheel, his entire family with him. As I looked in my rearview mirror, our eyes met, and he smiled, his own version of a knowing smile. It was almost as though he knew I had been screaming and he knew why and something about this whole thing amused him deeply. In a huff, I returned my eyes to the road, revved my engine to get the stragglers out of the way, and drove home with all the haste my aged truck allowed.

I doggedly tried to do my homework in peace. After reading the same paragraph for the seventy seventh time, I gave it up and decided to make dinner. Charlie came in as I was taking fish fillets off the stove and setting them next to roasted veggies and some reheated rice from the night before. We gathered our fixings, I was the only one who had rice, and sat at the table. After what seemed like an hour of silent eating, Charlie seemed to lock on to me.

"What's up with you?" he asked.

"Hm?" I murmured, looking up.

"Something's off," he said. "You weren't this agitated after the van incident. What's up?"

"Nothing," I said, in aggravation.

He tried not to laugh.

"Bells," he said. "I know you can take care of yourself. I respect that. But I am your father and I do need to make sure you are okay from time to time. I'm not good at all the touchy feely stuff, so, unless it is about a boy…"

"It's not about a boy," I said. And it wasn't. Not really.

"Good," he said. "You aren't in any of their leagues anyway."

I was sad to say that hurt quite a lot.

"What?" he asked. "Oh. No! I mean, you're too good for them, that type of not in their league."

"Thanks Dad," I said, feeling a little better.

"So," he guessed, "no one asked you to that dance next Saturday?"

"Dad," I complained. "First, it's girls choice. Second, despite that, I got asked; by three guys. And third, I am planning to be out of town that day."

Charlie looked somewhat apoplectic. He couldn't seem to get a single question out while the others were trying to force themselves out too.

"Three?" he finally managed.

"That's not important," I said. "I said no. I want to take a trip up to Seattle for some new books, maybe do some clothes shopping."

"When were you planning on telling me?" he asked, sounding stern.

"I'm telling you now," I said, trying to keep my voice even.

We both sighed, and the mood calmed down a bit.

"So why aren't you going to the dance?" he asked.

"I said-" I started, but he cut me off.

"You can do both," he said. "There isn't anything stopping you but you."

Crap. I wasn't expecting anyone to question my logic in that regard.

"I will be tired," I said. "Besides, I don't dance."

"Hmmm," he commented. "Point taken."

Charlie wasn't any better at dancing than I was. I thought I recalled him taking down both himself and my mother during their dance at their wedding.

"So why are you so irritable?" he asked. "Sounds like you are getting exactly what you wanted."

That was true. At least, in regards to the dance. I knew what I was irritable about, but I wasn't going to admit to my dad what it was. I could barely admit to myself what it was.

Edward had been in my thoughts all evening. His words kept bouncing around again and again. He was staying away from me for my sake, because I deserved better? I couldn't argue with that. I didn't want some rude jerk in my life, but there was something else there, in the way he said it. He seemed almost sad to have to be staying away from me, resigned, but sad. That made no sense to me at all. He wasn't giving up anything to stay away from me. It just seemed so melodramatic, so unnecessarily self deprecating. He was holding back, keeping himself hidden away. It was like, never leaving the house again to prevent yourself from getting hit by a car. It was stupid and overkill and he didn't need to be so guarded with… me?

I looked at Charlie. I was still waiting for an answer. I gave him one that was true and not the whole truth at the same time.

"Three guys asked me to ask them out today," I said. "One of them nearly turned down one of my best friends here to do it, and one of the others was Tyler."

Charlie looked like he was considering going for a drive. With a shotgun.

"Dad," I said, trying to coax him back down. "I will handle it. You don't need to get that look."

He frowned, "He could have killed you."

"I understand that," I said. "He also didn't even scratch me. I am not going out with him, not ever, and not because he nearly creamed me with his stupid van. He is absolutely not my type."

"Good," he said, seeming to calm down. "Good."

I realized I was calmer too. Whatever was going on with Edward, it wasn't any of my business anymore than Tyler was Charlie's. If Charlie could let it go, so could I.

That night, I dreamed of Edward again. I couldn't have told you when he started starring in my dreams exactly. I think it was the night after my near van experience. But this time, it was different. The dream started off in my truck, like that afternoon, with him leaning through my window. But when he stood up and stepped back, this time, I reached for him, my hand finding that the window was closed and he was on the other side. Then I dreamed that he was everywhere, but only in the mirrors and glass, existing only in reflects and nowhere else. Then he was the other side of iron bars from me, just out of reach, and I couldn't decide if he was in a cell or if I was. The dream seemed to reach some sort of crescendo, and he began pulling away, further and further back. His head was bowed, and I reached for him.

"No," I said. "No, Edward. Stay. No, don't go."

He raised his eyes, and they were a red glow in the darkness. What I had thought was a doorway he had been walking back through turned out to be a window. My window. In my room. And then I realized that I wasn't asleep anymore.

Something was outside my window, something with eyes of gleaming burgundy, somehow visible in the low light. Still half asleep, I cried out. Before I could think, I found myself at the window, my hand splayed against the glass, as it had been on my truck's window in the dream. Whatever it was, it was now gone.

With a crash, I turned to see Charlie barge into my room, his gun pointed at the ceiling.

"What is it?" he said professionally. "What happened?"

"I…" I said. "I thought I saw something."

He thumbed the safety on his gun and lowered it to point at the ground.

"Something?" he asked, sounding about as half asleep as I was.

"Outside my window," I said, the more I woke up, the more ludicrous it sounded.

"I must have been dreaming," I said. "No red eyed monsters out there."

He snorted, "Okay, Bells. Get some sleep."

He closed my door behind himself.

I didn't get back in bed right away. I stood there, my hand on the window. I had seen something, hadn't I? I could have sworn I had. I knew it the same way I knew Edward had been hit by that car. It didn't make sense, but I had seen it. Even fully awake and as crazy as it sounded, I didn't think my brain was making it up.

"Edward," I said to the night, letting my hand fall from the glass. Without a backward glance, I went back to sleep.


	6. Chapter 6: Blood Type

Getting up that morning took effort. My bed was warm and while the weather was warmer than it had been, it was still brisk enough in my room that I was more interested in pulling the pillow over my head and calling in sick than I was in setting a toe out of bed. But, I had never skipped a day in my life, and I wasn't about to start now. With all the cheer of a death row inmate, I found a thick full length skirt that was slit to the knee, simple comfortable cotton top over which I put a dark blue hoodie, pulled on a pair of fingerless gloves with the pullover mittens, slipped into my usual heavy coat, and grabbed my bag, stuffing a banana into my mouth as I hopped out the door. To say I was in a foul mood was like saying the weather was wet; it didn't really convey the full meaning and relevance of the thing. So, when I pulled into the parking lot heading for my usual spot and found a silver Volvo parked next to it, I was again rethinking my entire get-out-of-bed plan.

Edward was lying on the hood of his car, his torso propped against the windshield, his legs crossed at the ankle. He had one hand tucked behind his head and one hand splayed high on his stomach. He wore a long dark coat, an expensive almost velvet looking wine red scarf that bunched at his neck and looped across his chest, a white shirt that was loose under the scarf but hugs his ribs closely, a pair of sleight gray slacks, a pair of dark fitted gloves, and black pair of rather worn combat boots. He looked utterly relaxed, a smile quirking at the corners of his mouth. I had to squeak the brakes to stop the truck in time and not run into the field just beyond the lot.

I got out of the truck, which I was glad to have parked with my door away from him. I needed a moment to collect myself upon exiting. I was not going to let him do this to me again, be all attractive and compelling and then brush me off for my own good. I was tired of these games.

I was about to turn, prepared to actually face him, when I found that he was leaning against my truck beside me. Somehow, in the space between me parking the truck and opening the door, he had crossed all the way around my truck and stayed so still, I hadn't noticed him until that moment. And notice him I did.

"Holy crow!" I exclaimed, stepping back. I caught my ankle upon the concrete wheel stop of the parking space next to mine and was going down. Perfect. Just perfect, but, instead of finding myself crumpled upon my book bag, textbook corners jabbing me every which way, I realized that I was held carefully in an arched position, a surprisingly warm hand pressed again the back of my neck, another at my waist.

"My apologies," he said, his smooth voice still somehow rough and sincere. "I wished not to take any liberties with you, but I gathered that you would rather not fall."

He lifted me carefully back to my feet, then stepped back, looking somewhat embarrassed.

"I am sorry," he said, so earnest, I felt my defenses begin to melt before I jammed them back in place.

"I didn't mean to surprise you," he said, contrite.

I glowered at him, "Yes you did. If you didn't want to surprise me, you wouldn't have. You did that on purpose."

Oddly, he smiled, "I did, didn't I?"

"What do you want?" I asked, pulling my hood down and resettling the cloth where his hand had touched me.

"I want to talk to you," he said plainly, "to ask you something."

"Why?" I asked.

He smiled, and it was really hard to hold onto my dislike for the guy.

"So that you might answer," he said. I sighed.

"Seriously, Edward," I said, glancing about so I wouldn't be swept away in his eyes or anything. "I don't understand you. Why won't you leave me alone?"

He looked taken aback, almost sad. It was impossible not to immediately feel guilty that I had put that expression on his face. It was a look that Mike might wear, or Eric. His expression left little room for doubt; the idea of leaving me alone was surprisingly painful to him, more so than I think he really understood until that moment. I felt something tender bloom inside me.

"Is that what you want?" he asked quietly, "for me to leave you alone?"

"I…" I said, suddenly unsure myself. I thought about it.

"I want you to make up your mind," I said finally. "This talking to me when it is convenient to you yet spurning me the rest of the time thing doesn't work for me."

"Nor should it," he agreed. "I was confused before. I didn't think…"

Something pinched in his face, a sort of nervous discomfort. He was nervous?!

He huffed out an anxious chuckle, "I did not believe it would be so hard to finally talk to you. I was… unsure before."

He suddenly spoke quickly, in a rush, as though now that his thoughts were flowing, they could be stopped.

"I was harsh with you before," he said, "and for good reason. I stayed away from you because I wanted to be near to you, to talk with you and socialize and be… close."

I shivered, though it had nothing to do with the weather.

"But I didn't believe that could be possible," he went on. "I didn't think it would be wise even if it was. You… you are not someone that I could stand hurting, and while 'spurning' you caused us both a measure of distress, it was nothing to what might befall you if you were a more prominent part of my life."

I nodded, almost listlessly, "I know."

He came up sort, "Pardon?"

"I knew you were afraid," I said. "You were trying to stay away from me because you were afraid of what might happen to you."

He shook his head, "I was afraid… of what might happen to you."

I frowned, trying not to feel flattered at the same time.

"Thanks," I said, "but I can take care of myself."

He grinned. He had startlingly white teeth.

"Very well," he said with obvious humor. "In the future, I'll leave all the vans to you…"

I scowled at him, "So what changed?"

"Changed?" he asked.

"You said that you didn't think that I could be a part of your life," I pointed out. "Yet, here you are."

He took a step closer. He stilled, almost as though he was holding his breath. I didn't breathe either.

"I'm tired of trying to stay away from you," he said, and there was a look in his dark eyes, a heat that made my knees weak and watery. "I didn't think it was possible that you… that you might… that I could matter to someone like you."

"Like me?" I demanded, affronted. "What does that mean?"

"Someone…" he said, as though searching for just the right word. "good. Someone who can truly see. Someone who cares about those around her, little though they deserve it. Someone who understands her value, even if she doesn't understand when others see it too. Someone who works hard for what she wants and is willing to sacrifice for those whom she loves. Someone who cares without shame or self consciousness. Someone who matters."

How… how did he do that? It was like… it was like he was seeing me. He wasn't like most people, just seeing what they thought they wanted to see. He was decent enough to actually look. But the way he phrased everything, the way he said it made me think.

"And you don't?" I asked as he stepped back so he wasn't quite so in my comfort zone.

"I do not what?" he asked back.

"Matter," I clarified.

He smiled, a bit bashfully.

"I have no illusions about what I am," he said, pointlessly knocking some dirt from his boot by tapping his toe on the asphalt.

"What are you?" I asked, leaning in.

He still smiled, "I am the worst person you have ever met."

I couldn't close my mouth. What did you say to something like that?

"Next Saturday," he said, his voice tapering off.

"Yes?" I asked.

"Do you really not want to go to the Spring Formal?" he asked.

"I don't dance," I said.

He shook his head, "That is not an answer to my question."

"I will be out of town," I said.

"In Seattle," he said, "as you said. Again, that is not an answer."

"Why?" I asked, feeling irritated.

"Because I would like to know," he said, "and because this information will inform my next question."

"I have no interest in going to the Spring Formal," I said dryly.

He considered, "Would you have any interest in going if I was your escort?"

I looked at him. Him, as he was, took my breath away. Him in a tux…..

Then, the thought of me, plain, secondhand, mediocre, standing beside him.

"No," I said.

Something crossed his face, a sort of frustration tinged with dismay.

"Why not?" he asked.

I opened my mouth to speak, but he suddenly waved a hand.

"Doesn't misunderstand me," he said firmly. "You are completely within your right to turn me down, and if you do not want to go with me, I accept that. But if you are just making up excuses out of fear… You have already called me out on being afraid. I would do you the respect of pointing it out to you as well, if that is the case."

I frowned. Was I afraid? Well, it was obvious to me that he was entirely out of my league. I wasn't good enough for the likes of him. I didn't want to have to face that.

"You're about to lie to me again," he said.

"What?" I almost snapped at him.

"I am getting better at recognizing it," he said almost smugly. "You are afraid, and what is more, you don't want to admit it, not even to yourself. That is just silly of you. You are an honest person, Bella Swan. You should be honest with yourself too."

"And you should start being honest with me too," I shot back.

He looked deeply into my eyes. I was glad I was still almost leaning against my truck. I needed the support.

"I haven't lied to you since that day in the hospital," he said. "I will never lie to you again."

"What happened that day?" I asked quickly, striking while the iron was hot.

He smiled, "I am not going to tell you that."

"Why not?" I implored him, trying not to sound like I was pouting.

"You won't understand," he said.

"I can understand," I said defensively. "Try me."

"No, I mean that you would not understand," he said. "You might think that I am crazy or lying or making fun of you or, even worse, you might believe me. I couldn't abide it if you turned from me like that, not when we have… a chance."

He dropped his eyes. Breaking from his gaze I realized that the parking lot was starting to fill with students. More than one were looking our way with considerate interest.

"I should get to class," I said, feeling like I was trying to run away in waist deep water. My legs didn't want to move.

"Very well," he said. "I'll save you a seat."

And then, he was off, and I was left in a whirl of confusion and mixed emotions.

"What's up with you, Just Bella?" asked Jessica, and I looked up from my Spanish book. I could barely remember any of the other classes.

"Huh?" I asked.

"Exactly!" she exclaimed in a stage whisper. "You have been completely out of it all morning."

I wasn't totally out of it. I remembered Mike meeting me after English and telling me that we were on for the beach trip on Saturday. I remembered that Eric still seemed upset, but walked with me until Mike caught up with me, so I figured we were on okay terms again. I vaguely recalled Jess saying hi to me in Trig, but I was distracted, so I didn't say anything.

"This doesn't have anything to do with this rumor that has been floating around?" she asked.

"What rumor?" I asked, a little desperately.

"That you are going to the Spring Formal with Edward Cullen," she scoffed. "I already know that you aren't going, so it is just talk. Right?"

"I wasn't planning on it," I said flatly.

"Did he ask you?" she asked timidly.

I sighed, "No, he didn't."

It was technically true. He never had specifically asked me.

"Okay," she said. "Wait! Did you ask him?!"

"Why would I ask him?" I asked dismissively.

"Because," she said. "He's gorgeous. And it's girl's choice."

That was a good point. If I really wanted to, I could walk up to him and ask. He had made it clear that he wanted to. At least I think he did. He had more or less implied that he was asking me. But, why? I mean, he said enough for me to know that he actually paid attention to me, that he actually… wanted me? That didn't sound right at all. Could I really just ask him out? Could I do that even if I didn't know what he was going to say?

"I don't get it," said Jessica.

"What don't you get?" asked Angela, walking up next to me. She put an arm about my shoulders and pulled me to her as we walked for a moment. I was astounded by how much I felt like I needed the support. She just knew I could use it and gave me a little sideways hug and let me lean on her. It was very nice and I felt better immediately.

"I'm sorry," Jessica said. "I don't mean to sound like I'm nitpicking, but why don't you want to go to the dance? Do you just not like fun things?"

"I like fun things," I said a bit defensively. "I just don't like things like embarrassment and awkward flailing and public humiliation."

"What about boys in tuxes?" she asked. "Or seeing your friends all dolled up? Or slow dancing? Or maybe even a little kissing?"

"Bella isn't you, Jess," Angela said quietly. "She is allowed to like other things."

"I know," said Jessica, "I mean, I just… I don't understand."

"And we don't need to," said Angela, looking out of the corner of her eye at me. "We are on your side."

"Thanks Angie," I said, giving her one last squeeze before heading to the lunch line.

"So why the rumor?" asked Jess as we got our food and left the line.

"Which rumor?" I asked.

"The rumor that you are going to the dance with Edward," she said.

I found myself looking for Edward as I usually did. Since the accident, he had sat by himself only once. When I saw that he wasn't with his family, for a sickening moment I thought he had left school again. But then, he caught my eye, sitting alone as he once had, looking directly at me, a welcoming smile on his face. He gestured to the empty chairs about him, as though inviting me to choose. I had to stop for a moment to remember important things like I was in the middle of talking to Jess and that there were tables in my way, so if I had walked as I was about to, I would have bumped into them and such.

"Um," I said evasively. "No reason."

I started walking towards him.

"Where are you…?" she said. A moment before she was out of earshot, I heard a strangled squeak that was quickly cut off.

I walked up to the table, empty but for him. I looked at my own food.

"You're not eating?" I asked.

He smiled further, "No."

I sat down across from him, feeling somewhat noncommittal.

"You still have not forgiven me for being… a jerk," he said.

"Should I?" I asked with a huff.

"It would help," he said, "if we are going to be spending more time together that you not act like a jerk yourself. If you do not wish my company, you are welcome to sit somewhere else. If you do not begrudge me my former stupidity, then you should refrain from continuing to do so."

I couldn't help but snort a laugh at that.

"You were being stupid, huh?" I commented. After his eloquence, I suddenly felt quite the yokel.

"Very much so," he said. "Though for good reason."

"Which is?" I asked.

He grinned, "A vile thing such as I doesn't deserve good things."

I hated the idea of him being a bad person, the worse person.

"Why do you keep saying that?" I asked bitterly.

"Because it is true," he said, and there was no sarcasm in his voice, no self deprecation or belittlement. He believed that.

"I don't," I said. Then I remembered that I hadn't made my point aloud.

"Believe that," I added. "I don't believe that."

"It's still true," he said, "but it isn't worth dwelling upon."

I opened my mouth to argue, when suddenly Angela's words came back to me. I didn't need to understand to be on his side.

"Okay," I said, picking up an apple. "What should we talk about?"

He watched as I took a modest bite, trying not to be self-conscious.

"Anything," he said, his voice rather breathy and filled with a fervor that I was somehow familiar.

"Anything?" I asked.

"Anything at all," he said. "I want to know everything about you."

I tried successfully not to snort bits of apple.

"Because I know so much about you," I pointed out.

He tried to hide his smile.

"I want to know everything you are willing to tell me," he said.

"And," I began, "what if I am unwilling to tell you anything?"

He leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table, much as he did the day before with my truck's window, his hands under his chin, but this time he was engaged rather than disheartened, his eyes intent and unblinking. I was unnerved within seconds.

"If I'm not going to talk then you have to," I said, hiding behind what could liberally be called a hoagie.

"Do I?" he asked, one eyebrow raised.

I sort of slouched into myself, my attention entirely on my food.

"Very well," he said. "Why don't you wish to go to the Spring Formal?"

I swallowed, "That is me talking again."

His face twitched in a way that convinced me he was trying not to laugh or make fun of me.

"Were you intending a long monologue?" he inquired, as though nothing would make him happier.

"Why so interested?" I asked.

"Because you are interesting," he said, emphasizing interesting in a weird way.

"I'm not," I said around a smallish bite of sandwich. "I'm really not."

He looked thoughtful for a moment.

"Or is it that you do not want to be?" he asked.

"Who says I don't want to be?" I retorted.

"You do," he said. "Right now. Everyone is interesting to someone. But you do not want to be. You dress for comfort and function far more than you do for display or attention. You are soft spoken in class and almost never offer an answer unless no one else does or the teacher calls upon you specifically. You dismiss every single notion that you might be worthy of attention, despite the fact that no other girl at this school was asked to this dance by more than one person, let alone the number you attracted. And yet, even here and now, when just about any passerby would say that I am here, being interested in you, you would still brush aside all thought that I might want to be here with you, more than anything else."

"Now I know you are lying to me," I said with a cynical edge.

"And you are deflecting," he pointed out.

"But there is no way that you could want nothing more than to be here with me," I pointed right back. "Even if those scenarios still included me, I am sure there are other things you would rather be doing than sitting in a school cafeteria, surrounded by a ton of eavesdropping students."

He became very still, and something about his eyes focusing on me made my guts squirm and my heart race. He looked away.

"I will concede that you are right," he said distantly. "But there isn't a thing I would rather be doing than to be with you."

I felt my face go red, and it was my turn to look away.

The truth was, I didn't want to believe him. I understood that, but I couldn't admit to him why.

"You look conflicted," he said. "And rather pretty when you blush."

I hid my face so he wouldn't see me blush more.

"Why are you conflicted?" he asked and I refused to look up.

"Please," he said, his voice just loud enough for me to hear. Unconsciously, I looked up.

He was looking back at me, and his expression wasn't one I had seen on his face before. His eyes were on me, searching my face carefully, but were tinged with something, like a quiet sadness, some little heart wrenching expression that made me think he was sad or disheartened by something he saw. It was almost as though he longed for something, something he knew he had no right to ask for. I knew exactly what that was like, because I couldn't deny that that feeling was exactly what I was feeling at that moment.

"I don't want you to be telling me the truth," I said. He blinked, his quick surprise darting into confusion.

"If you are telling me the truth," I said tremulously, "and if I believe you, then it will hurt all the more when you leave again."

"I'm not going to leave, Bella," he said.

I shook my head, "You already left twice. And even if you don't, there is always the possibility that you will stay away from me again, for my own good."

He made a weird motion with his arm, almost like he was reaching out and then pulled back, probably resettling his sleeve or something.

"I wish that were so," he said, sounding almost sad. "It is in your best interest for you to never see me again. If I were to do what is best for you, I would leave, right now, this very second, and never impact your life again in any way."

I wanted him to stop. What he was saying was tormenting me, and I hated it. I wasn't this girl, who could so easily be swept up in a boy, no matter how…

"But you don't have to worry about that," he said, his tone not changing, a slightly bitter smile upon his face. "You see, it turns out that not only am I a monster, I am also a monumentally selfish creature. What I want is, apparently, so much more important than what is best for you."

I started breathing regularly again. I hadn't realized that I wasn't.

"And what do you want?" I asked.

He grinned at me, and I was back to irregular breathing.

"That would be telling, Ms. Swan," he said, a lilt to his voice and the barest hint of something vast, something deep in him, something that had my toes curling.

"But please understand one thing," he said. "In this regard, what you want is more important than what I want. If you should choose…"

He looked away, and for a moment, his face looked brittle, older somehow, like he had suffered a lifetime of indescribable pain, and it was etched profoundly into his face. When he looked back, he was himself again, if still sad looking.

"If you should choose that I have no place in your life," he said, "then I will go. No matter what. If at any point, you decide that I am truly not worthy of you, tell me, and you will never see me again."

"And what if I don't?" I asked, before I could stop myself. "What if I never want you to leave?"

He gave me a look, a sort of reluctant pleasure mixed with empathetic sorrow.

"I will stay as long as you like," he said, "but I cannot believe that you will never want me to go."

"Why not?" I asked, unsure.

He smiled, "Because I don't want you to be telling me the truth. And because the notion is too enticing."

I ate, still self-conscious of him watching me, but having no idea how to respond to that. After I had worn down my meal, I looked up again.

"So what brought this on?" I asked.

"Brought what on?" he asked, folding his hands.

"You said that were tired of staying away from me," I pointed out. "But this is a pretty serious one eighty. What brought it on?"

He shook his head, "That is not something I am prepared to tell you."

It was my turn to shake my head.

"Let me get this straight," I said, leaning back. "You are willing to stay, but only so long as I want you to. You are willing to be honest, but not about anything you think will make me want to leave. You will tell me when there are things that you don't want to say, but you won't tell me what those things are or why they will make me decide to kick you to the curb?"

He nodded, "Yes, essentially."

"You really are selfish," I said.

To my surprise, he laughed, "Very."

"But that doesn't make much sense," I said. "If I only get the parts of you that you are willing to share, then how will I ever really know you?"

"You won't," he agreed. "And maybe that is a good thing."

I considered his words, "For me, or for you?"

He looked away, and said nothing.

After a moment, the bell rang. Right; school, class, kids all around us. I had been so focused on him, I hadn't really considered where we were anymore.

He didn't stand as I did.

"Aren't you coming?" I asked.

"I am not going to class today," he said seriously.

"Why not?" I asked.

He shook his head, "Because fainting once per year is enough for me."

"Huh?" I asked, confused.

"We are blood typing in Biology," he explained.

"Oh," I said. "Oh! Ugh! Really?"

"What is it?" he asked, almost unconsciously standing.

"I can't go either," I said, trying not to let the fact that I liked that we had this one thing in common, at least. "I would be in the same boat."

"Ah," he said. Apparently, he had no concern showing how much he liked this common ground either. "Then, I have an idea."

We walked towards the front office.

"If I asked you to do something, would you?" he asked.

I looked at him suspiciously, "Not without knowing what it is?"

"Nothing nefarious," he assured me. "I simply want you to wait here for me."

My suspicion deepened, "Why?"

He gave me a conspiratorial look, "I am going to bribe Mrs. Cope. It is best if there isn't any witnesses."

His tone was half teasing, but I couldn't tell which half.

"Okay," I said shakily.

He stepped into the office, and as the door was closing, I couldn't help but gently nudge it to remain open.

"Mrs. Cope," said Edward, his voice low.

"Yes, Edward," she said pleasantly. "What can I do for you?"

Something changed. His voice became flat, low, as though he wasn't really speaking, like the voice I heard wasn't even really him anymore.

"Release Bella Swan and myself from class," he said. "We cannot go to biology today because of health reasons."

There was a short silence. I heard shuffling papers, and the boisterous Mrs. Cope didn't say a single word more. I suddenly became worried that he might turn and see the door open, so I let go with my foot and stepped back. A few seconds later, he stepped out with two passes in his hand.

"Here," he said, handing me one.

I looked at him with renewed suspicion, "You can get one of these whenever you want?"

He looked a bit weary, then smiled, "Only when the need arises. It isn't as though we are 'ditching' recreationally. This is in our own best interests."

"That sounds exactly like what someone who did ditch recreationally would say," I pointed out.

He sighed, "To the library?"

I frowned, "What?"

"We aren't going to leave school, are we?" he asked. "And we only have the one class off. Where else were you thinking we should go?"

I honestly hadn't thought that far ahead. The idea of having an entire period with him suddenly seemed very intriguing. I realized that there were many things we could talk about, many possibilities that lay before us. I found it surprising how intently I wished there was a place where we could go and be alone.

"I…" I started to ask for that very thing, but then lost my nerve.

"What is it?" he asked, and I shook my head.

"Library," I said, wishing my voice was more sound.

We made our way to the small, almost nonexistent library. The school didn't employee a librarian, so the teachers took it in turns to mind it on an off period. I wasn't sure how the books that got taken down got back onto the appropriate shelves. When we walked in, Mr. Mason, the English teacher stepped out to the tiny office.

"Can I help you two?" he asked, and we offered out passes.

"Alright," he said. "I have tests to grade, don't make too much noise and knock if you need anything."

He went back to the office but left the door open.

We were the only ones in the library. There were only like six stacks and four tables that could seat more than one person. We took one and sat at opposing corners. I set my books down and it wasn't until that moment that I realized that, other than the notebook I had seen him writing in, I had never seen Edward with a single book or writing implement.

"Where's your stuff?" I asked him.

"Stuff?" he asked curiously.

"Like books and papers and things," I specified. "You know? School stuff."

He grinned, "I have what I need."

"You don't take notes or read books or anything?" I asked.

He gave me a discerning look.

"What?" I asked.

"Why don't you want to go to the dance?" he asked.

"What does that have to do with your school books?" I asked hotly.

He gave me a roguish, half smile. I suddenly felt rather woozy and had to remind myself of important things like closing my mouth and breathing.

"You want to know things about me," he said. "And I want to know things about you. I am suggesting commerce, a trade."

I considered, "What would it cost me to have you tell me what you are?"

His face relaxed and went still.

"It would take you confessing your deepest, darkest, most shameful secret to me," he said, his words heavy with severe melancholy.

At first, I felt the weight of his words. It really hadn't occurred to what exactly I was asking of him when I asked, nor what it would have cost him to tell me. Then, the idea of actually telling him something like that about me came to mind, and I understood completely his reservations.

"I am sorry," I said, my words quite.

"Sorry?" he asked, inquisitive again.

"I hadn't considered your perspective when I was asking," I said apologetically. "I won't ask again."

He brought out that smile again, and the tension was rightly broken.

"So," he said, "you won't be telling my your deepest, darkest secret?"

"I don't have one of those," I said, my voice squeaking for some reason.

He gave a knowing look, "As you say."

His tone was deeply dubious.

"So," he said, "what would it take to have you answer why you don't want to go to the dance?"

I thought about it.

"I don't know how to answer that," I admitted.

"You don't know what it would cost," he asked, "or you don't know why you do not want to go?"

"Both," I said. "Maybe? I don't know."

"You sort of make it a point to not think too hard about yourself," he noted.

"Why should I?" I asked a bit heatedly.

"Self understanding is the most important part of life," he said. "If you do not understand yourself, do not know yourself, how can you know anything?"

"I don't know," I said, a bit sullenly, "Why do I need to know myself? Why is that even important?"

He took a deep breath.

"What are you running away from?" he asked.

"I'm not running," I said.

"You are," he said smugly. "You are doing everything you can to avoid answering the question."

"And you'll do anything to weasel an answer out of me," I retorted.

He looked momentarily pensive.

"I apologize," he said formally. "I realize now what I wanted, and you are completely within your rights to deny me. I was wrong to insist."

I felt an almost edgy sense of curiosity, "What did you want?"

He grinned, and it made the room tilt a moment. If he had asked me about the dance right then, he might have gotten an uninhibited answer.

"Do you see?" he asked with elation. "How could I not ask when it is so vital for me to hear it?"

I did see. He wanted an answer to his question, just as I wanted an answer to mine. I wanted it so badly, I wasn't really thinking about whether he wanted to answer or not. But I still wanted an answer to mine. Maybe, if…

"I would like to know what you wanted," I said. "But it is up to you if you answer or not."

He smiled again, his eyes a little sad and it made him look younger somehow, vulnerable.

"I wanted an answer," he admitted with trepidation, "because I wanted to be important. I wanted to matter to you. I wanted you to answer, not because I asked, but because you valued me and were thus willing to answer. I realize now that in fact, I turned the notion of that around in my head, meaning that if I were to get an answer, it meant that you did value me. And you do not need to. I don't need to matter to you at all."

How could he say that!? How could he even think it!? Of course he mattered! Naturally, I didn't like it when he treated me poorly and I hated the idea of his deprecations and his own deplorable opinions of himself, but the very idea that he wasn't important twisted in me, knotting me up inside. I couldn't stand it anymore than I could the idea of him leaving. I opened my mouth to protest, to denounce and deny, but instead, strange words spilled from my lips.

"Will you go to the dance with me?" I asked.

He looked nearly as shocked as I felt. What in the heck was I thinking!?

He considered me, "Truly?"

There wasn't any way I was backing out of that one.

"Yes," I said.

He tried not to let his smile grow, and my heart hiccuped in my chest.

"And you aren't asking just to placate me and plan on revoking the invitation later?" he asked.

I glowered at him, "Do you want to go to the stupid dance or not?"

His expression changed. He become serious, a deeply earnest and sincere look to him. I watched as his hand slid a few inches in my direction before stopping. He seemed to settle on settling forward for emphasis. Had he been about to reach for my hand?

"I would be honored, Bella," he said with a sort of muted yet powerful conviction.

I didn't know how to respond. I was adrift at sea, awash in feeling that made me want to still, to quiet and be settled under the weight of such heavy words, but I also felt like I was going to explode if I tried to sit still, as though running about in a wash of high pitched shrieks and giggles was my natural state of being. In the end, I just blushed and looked away, trying to keep the dope smile off my face. When my eyes returned, those emotions washed away quite quickly.

"What is it?" I asked.

He looked more than a little forlorn.

"Would you understand," he asked, his voice hesitant, almost unsure, "that though I was afraid that you might not choose me, I am now more afraid that you have chosen me?"

I took in his words.

"Yes," I said, feeling a bit raw to admit it. "I know exactly what you mean."

We both shared a small smile. They weren't altogether happy, but they weren't unhappy smiles either.

We didn't talk that much for the rest of the period. He sat with his notebook in front of him, his pen scratching away. I reread the current chapter, and ten minutes before the period was over, I stood up.

"Where are you going?" he asked, sounding a little alarmed.

"Biology," I said. "We should get our homework."

He looked pensive, "I do not think that is the best idea."

I gave him a look, "I haven't ever skipped a class before. I don't want to get behind."

"Missing a single day hardly matters," he said. "Why risk it?"

"I'm going," I said, finally packing up my things. "Are you coming or not?"

He rose and hid his notebook and pen within his coat.

"This is not a good idea," he said.

"You worry too much," I said, and we made our way to Biology.

The class was still in session, but it looked as though everything used for doing blood typing had been put away. I deemed it safe, but Edward stood resolutely outside as I opened the door and walked in.

"Why weren't you in class?" Mr. Banner asked, looking suspiciously over my shoulder.

"I faint around bleeding people." I said, feeling suddenly a little queasy as the barest hint of copper brushed across my nose. "I was excused from class by Mrs. Cope. I was wondering if I could get the homework."

He scrutinized my face, "Are you feeling alright?"

I felt myself sway on my feet.

"I'm fine," I murmured determinedly, not wanting to admit that my stomach was starting to turn somersaults. "Homework?"

Before he could respond, I felt a cool hand carefully grip my upper arm and start leading me out of the room.

"Breathe," Edward whispered as he led my outside. I heard Mr. Banner speak and Edward reply, but my brain was a bit fuzzy and I missed the actual words.

"Can't," I replied belatedly. "The smell doesn't help."

"Humans can't smell blood," he stated.

"Some can," I said, giving him a petulant look for his generalization. "I'm one of them."

Before I could react, my legs wobbled, and swiftly were no longer under me. In the space of a single breath, I was in Edwards arms.

"Put me down," I protested weakly. I would have done more than that if class wasn't still going on and there were actually people around. He didn't seem hampered at all by my weight and strolled to the front office with no sign of strain or fatigue. He slipped inside with no trouble opening the door and without jostling me.

"Oh my," I heard Mrs. Cope say. "What happened?"

"We decided to go back to Biology to get our homework," Edward said with his usual charm. "It wasn't the best idea."

I tried to glower, but my face was nearly turned to his chest and I doubted he could ever see if he was looking at me. It was then that where I was and whose chest my face was nearly nestled into actually hit me, and I was quickly shredded by equal desires to be put down and lean closer. As he set me carefully and easily in a chair, my hand cramped as I forced my fingers to release the hem of his coat that I hadn't realized I was clinging to.

"I'll get the nurse," said Mrs. Cope.

Before I could jump out and explain that wasn't necessary, likely passing out and voiding my own argument, Edward stepped in.

"I do not believe that is necessary," he said. "She is just a little lightheaded."

"I see," said Mrs. Cope. "What's your last class, honey?"

"Gym," I all but moaned.

"Hmm," said Mrs. Cope. "I'm not sure that's the best idea either."

I didn't try to explain that my bemusement had less to do with the state of my head and more to do with the quality of my coordination.

"Perhaps I should take her home," said Edward. "If that is alright with Bella."

"Yes," I said, anything to get out of Gym.

"What about you?" asked Mrs. Cope.

I could hear the smile in his voice, "I am sure Mrs. Goff won't mind. I will do whatever make up work she believes I need."

The bell rang for last period, and Edward sat in the chair beside me as Mrs. Cope amended our slips.

"It isn't fair," I muttered.

"What isn't?" he asked, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. I looked away pointedly.

"I couldn't have stepped one foot out of class without my school calling my mother back in Phoenix," I inform him. "Yet here, I am missing two classes and leaving campus early, and they haven't even suggested calling my father."

He nodded, "Small towns are far more trusting."

I shake my head and then regret it and have to pause for the room to catch up and quit twisting.

"And I am sure that it has nothing to do with you," I pitched sarcastically.

"Me?" he asked, sounding bewildered.

"Do you believe everyone gets their way so easily?" I suggested.

He gave me a lopsided smile, and the room spun even more than when I shook my head.

"This," he indicated the area at large, "this is easy. Getting what I really want, that is hard."

I felt suddenly more sober.

"What do you really want?" I asked.

He looked at me, like he did before, when I asked him to the dance, that sincere, intense look. It scared me how much I liked it, and I liked how much it scared me.

"I am getting what I want," he said. "It just takes more work."

The late bell rang, and he stood.

"Shall I carry you," he asked. The look on his face told me just how much he knew that I hated that idea.

"I can walk, thank you," I said, with so little thanks it was practically a barbed comment. He simply chuckled.

We walked outside, and he stayed close to my side, to the point that I thought he was waiting for me to go down.

"I am not going to fall," I said a bit acidly.

"Please, Bella," he said, with an actual edge to his voice. "You already almost fell once today because I was too far away from you. I do not want a repeat of the performance. It is a little thing. Can you not allow me this one comfort?"

Okay, so I kind of felt embarrassed by how much I enjoyed the idea of him standing so close to me being a comfort to him. I liked it so much that I didn't even realize when we started heading towards his car rather than my truck. Granted, they were very close together, but still.

"You're actually going to drive me home?" I asked.

"I said that I would," he stated, sounding almost offended.

"What about my truck?" I asked, feeling worried.

He turned to me, still walking with an even, graceful gate.

"I understand how important it is to you," he said gravely. "I will ensure its safe return directly after I return to pick up my siblings. Or, we could take your truck and I could walk back-"

"No," I cut him off. "If you can just get my truck back-"

"Before your father returns home," he finished.

I stopped and stared at him.

"You are getting easier to understand," he said. "I like it."

I liked it too.

He opened the passenger door to his silver Volvo, and I got in. It really was a very nice car. He slipped into the driver's seat and pulled smoothly out of the space. He seemed at ease behind the wheel, moving with a minimal, practiced efficiency, the turns and accelerations smooth and sort of comfortable somehow.

"Tell me about yourself," he said.

"What?" I asked, unsure.

"I would like to know more about you," he said.

"Like what?" I asked, feeling even more unsure.

"What is your mother like?" he asked, "besides being able to read you like a book."

I just stared, "You remember that?"

He looked at me just long enough to make me uncomfortable, both for my safety and because he was looking at me so unabashedly.

"I remember everything about you," he said. I looked out the window, hoping he didn't notice my cheeks go pink. By his smirk when I looked back, I gathered that he had.

"My mother is very young for her age," I said. "She lives in the moment a lot, which means she doesn't always make the best long term decisions. She gets so caught up in what she is doing and what she is currently passionate about, she comes off as extremely forgetful, air-headed, and insensitive, but you just need to get to know her. When she pays attention, nothing gets by her. I'm a terrible liar because I learned at an early age that it wouldn't do any good to lie. She enthusiastically and unashamedly herself in a way that I admire and doubt I could ever be. In a lot of ways, she is more like my best friend then my mom. But she loves me and thinks the world of me, and I got used to having to be the adult a long time ago. I love her too."

We stopped, I realized that we were already at my house.

I blinked, "How do you know where I live?"

He straightened, "Small town."

I shook my head, "Why don't I believe you?"

He grinned, "Because you are more like your mother than you think."

I raised an eyebrow at him, "Oh?"

"Yes," he said. "You are yourself just as much as she is, only that you are not her; you are you, and you live differently than her. But you are yourself with abandon. It is one of the many things that drew me to you in the first place."

My heart decided to give up on the whole beating thing and gave pole vaulting up my throat a chance. It didn't go over well for either of us.

"What makes you say that?" I asked, my throat a bit constricted.

He laughed, sounding astonished.

"Bella," he said, sounding somehow conciliatory and also reproving. "Have you any idea how few people act the way you do, let alone how many teenagers? You not only made the decision to do what was best for your mother by moving here, but when you arrived, did you mope and become dejected and shun all who spoke with you? Of course not. You made the best of it, by choice, making friends of people who benefit considerably more by having you as a friend then you do having them as yours. You support those around you, care for those who do not or can not care for themselves, and yet you refuse to back down when you see unfairness or injustice, demanding decency from others and holding them to standards you know they are capable of without shame or belittlement. In all of that, you are fearless and do so effortlessly, as easy as breathing, and as far as I can tell, the only thing that you truly fear is being selfish, of not getting what you want but think you do not deserve. I am here to say that you do serve it; you, more than anyone I have met outside of my own family and even more so than some of those, deserve to be happy."

I didn't know what to say, what to do. No one had ever spoken to me like that. No one had ever looked at me the way he was looking at me now. I was so used to being seen through, looked passed and over. Never had anyone act like I was important before, like I mattered. He wasn't simply saying that I mattered; he believed it. It was not a comfortable feeling, but it was deep and seemed to bypass my usual defenses for such things, except that no one had ever talked to me like that before. It felt like there was supposed to be something here, like this was the part where I did a thing, but I have never done this thing before and didn't know what it was.

So, I settled for, "Thank you."

His calm and confident expression seemed to crack a bit, and he suddenly seemed as unsure as I was, which was ludicrous to me. If anyone in the world had a reason to be confident and sure of themselves, it was Edward.

Edward, who I was going to the dance with a week from Saturday. I had to get a dress. I had to… Why did I agree to this!?

"Just so you are aware," he said, "I will not insist that because you asked me and I said yes, that we need to go to the Formal together. If you decide that you would rather not, I will completely understand. I want to go with you, but not more than I want you to have what you want."

I thought about what he was saying, and I understood it. I couldn't stand the idea of going anywhere with a person who really didn't want to go with me, but felt like they had to. Even thinking about that felt awful. But when I thought about it, if there was anyone I would want to go to a dance with, it would be Edward. I was suddenly aware of the idea of him, dashing and svelte in a tux, his arms around me, a slow song permeating the air about us.

"You look nervous," he asked. "What is it?"

"I just…" I started but couldn't finish.

"Just what?" he asked patiently.

"I've never been…" I said and trailed away again.

"Been?" he asked again, his tone never changing.

"I've never been on a date before," I admitted in a small voice that was surprised he heard.

"Truly?" he asked, sounding surprised.

I started to feel indignant, "I've just never dated before, okay?"

"Bella," he said with placating amusement. "I do not mean that you are not worthy of dating. Just the opposite. I am surprised that someone hasn't courted you at length long before now."

"Courted?" I asked.

"You have roused the interest of so many boys already here in this small town," he said. "Considering the populace you no doubt left behind at your former school, one would think that you would have been beating them off with a proverbial stick."

I laughed. Loudly. I couldn't help it!

"You must be joking," I said. "I am completely ordinary and wholly uninteresting, by everyone who isn't you."

"How many boys asked you to the dance again?" he asked, a bit rhetorically.

I sighed, "Three, other than you."

"I never asked you," he pointed out, and it was true. All the other boys asked me, even though it was supposed to be the other way around. But not him. That seemed… really significant somehow.

"Yeah," I conceded, "but they just asked me because they wanted me to go with them. They didn't really care what I wanted."

"True," he agreed with a light smile, "but they were interested in you, or else they wouldn't have asked. And have you even considered the ones who didn't have the courage to ask or else believe that you wouldn't be interested? I have a feeling the same could be said for the boys back in Phoenix as well."

"You're crazy," I said, not believing him for a second.

"I must be," he said, "since I thought for a moment that you might actually believe me."

He chucked, but somehow I knew it was self-directed.

"Speaking of incredulity," he said, looking out into the light drizzle that had begun to fall, "I should be getting back soon. My siblings will not be so understanding if they have to stand about waiting for me in the rain."

"Oh," I said, feeling foolish. "I guess I will see you tomorrow. Won't I?"

He actually looked disappointed.

"Regretfully, no," he said. "I won't be at school tomorrow. My brother and I have a camping trip planned for this weekend, to take advantage of the nice weather. I won't be in at all tomorrow."

I understood the disappointment. I wished he had told me. I felt like the time I had spent with him was somehow wasted, like I hadn't savored it or appreciated it enough. But there wasn't anything I could do about it now.

"Okay," I said, because there was nothing else to say. I was pretty sure my disappointment was about as obvious as his. When I thought about it, his disappointment made the situation more bearable, if only slightly.

He smiled, leaning towards me. For a moment, I thought he was going to do something ludicrous that I was completely unprepared for, but he just opened the door for me.

"It was a pleasure, Bella," he said. "I hope to see you next week."

Smiling, I slipped out of the car. I walked to the door, reaching into the pocket for my keys. Keys!

I turned and found that Edward was already gone. I guess I would just have to make up an excuse for Charlie. I will tell him the truck didn't start and that I thought I might have flooded it or something and that I got a ride with Jessica. But, as I slid the key into the lock, I realized that there was only one key on the ring, my house key. My truck key wasn't there.

I looked back the way Edward had gone.

"Show off," I muttered, smiling, and went into the house.


	7. Chapter 7: Scary Stories

Homework proved an able distraction. I found a folded page torn from a notebook with a series of pages written on them. Once I read them, I vaguely remembered Mr. Banner speak these to Edward as he drew me out of the room. I also remembered him leaning towards my bag as we waited in the office for the school to clear out between classes. He must have gotten my key then too. But if he had done it then, how did he know? Had he really planned so far ahead that he knew that he would drive me home and that he would need the key to get my truck to me. He said he understood me better, but that was practically psychic. Granted, I wasn't sure what Edward was capable of, but that was just disconcerting.

The phone rang and I had to run downstairs.

"Hello?" I said, then added, "Swan residence."

"Spill!" Jessica commanded.

I sighed, and started walking the phone back to my room.

"What are you talking about?" I asked.

"Spill!" she demanded. "Everyone is talking about it! Edward Frickin' Cullen invites you to sit with him at lunch, and then you don't show for Biology. Then you come to get your homework at the end of class, get all woozy, then he carried out of the class!"

"Yes, so?" I asked.

"So!?" she screeched. "You cut class with Edward Cullen and all I get is a 'so'?!"

"It isn't like that," I said with a sigh. I checked outside and sure enough, my truck was there.

"Can I call you back?" I asked.

"Just Bella Swan!" Jess all but screamed, "I swear to god if you hang up this phone, I'm never speaking to you again!"

"Fine, fine," I said, "just, hold on a minute."

I heard her voice garble a protest at me from several feet away as I set the phone down and huffed my way out to the truck as fast as I could and still be sure footed. I managed to only slide on the wet pavement twice and catch the door of the truck before I had a chance to fall. I opened the door and found the key inside. I grabbed it, locked the door, and ran inside again. I combed my fingers through my damp hair as I picked up the phone.

"-ninety four bottles of beer," Jess was singing in a purposefully terrible trill. "Take one down-"

"I'm back," I said, holding the phone to my ear and working my key back onto the key ring.

"Spill!" she commanded again, in the exact same tone.

"What?" I asked dismissively. "Edward talked to me this morning. He asked me why I didn't want to go to the dance and stuff. We got excused from class because they were blood typing. He can't be around blood because of his anemia and I faint, so we sat in the library all fifth period."

"Wait," she said, her tone flat, then working up to a nervous skepticism, "he asked you to the dance, didn't he!?"

"No," I said, "he didn't."

For come reason, I found it hard to keep the smile off my face.

"What?!" she demanded, "I know that tone! What?!"

"He didn't ask me," I said. "He could have. But, it was girl's choice, and so he didn't ask. He let it be girl's choice."

"You didn't!" she squealed.

"I kinda did," I said, my smile more pronounced.

She was positively nonverbal with giggles and girlish glee.

"He said yes?" she finally got out. "Tell me he said yes!"

"Jess," I complained.

"Just Bella Swan, don't you dare ruin this for me!" she cried. "What did the man say?!"

"He said yes," I barely whispered. I might as well have dropped a bomb. I wasn't sure what was going on on the other side of the phone, but I was surprised the phone survived it.

"So you are going to the dance with him!" he triumphed.

"I am as of fifth period," I said. "I guess those rumors got started because people saw us this morning. But you were right; up until I actually asked him, I had no intention of going to the dance at all."

"What changed?" she asked, sounding sort of sincere in an odd way.

"I am not entirely sure," I said. "It is like… he gets me. I don't understand how or why, but he really sees me, in some ways that I don't even see myself. I realized that it was what I wanted, and that the only reason I wasn't asking for it was because I was afraid I wouldn't get it. He helped me to stop being afraid."

There was a lengthy silence, at least relative to Jess.

"And it has nothing to do with the fact that the boy is hotter than the surface of the sun in July?" she asked.

I smiled, "The sun is the same temperature in July as it is in December. It's just the distance and the angle that has changed."

"You didn't answer my question," she pointed out.

I grinned, "Caught that, huh?"

"What do you think of him?" she asked. "I mean really think of him. We haven't talked about boys at all since you got here. Now we both have dates and we can finally do the musing, vicarious chick thing."

"The what?" I asked, a bit confounded.

"You know," she said. "You can talk to me about your boyfriend and I can talk to you about my boyfriend."

I almost choked, "Boyfriend!? We are going on one date! About the only thing I know about the guy is that he thinks I'm interesting and hard to understand, but he is learning. He hasn't really told me how he feels about me at all."

She considered, "How do you feel about him?"

"Jess," I complained.

"It's a simple question," she said. "Don't overthink it. Do you like him?"

"Yes," I said, feeling my face for scarlet.

"Um hmm," she said with a sort of indulgent lilt to her voice. "And when he touches you, do you get all tingly and melty?"

I thought about that.

"I don't think he has," I said. "Not really. The few times he has touched me, there was at least one layer of clothing between us."

"That's no fun," she pouted. "What was it like to be carried by him?"

I thought about it.

"Easy," I said. "I guess he must be pretty strong because it seemed like nothing to him. But it was… I don't know, sort of smooth, like I didn't have to worry, like he had me and he wasn't going to let anything happen to me."

"Aw!" she squeed. "He made you feel safe?"

I thought about that, "Yeah, I guess he really did."

We devolved into talk about the dance and the beach weekend. We made plans the following week to go up to Port Angeles and look for dresses. I had a pair of sensible dress shoes I could probably use, but I would look anyway. I didn't plan on getting any jewelry, as Jessica did.

Dad got home, and I told Jess goodnight and made dinner. Dad and I didn't talk, but he kept eyeing me and saying nothing. Finally I went up to my room, finished homework and showered and went to bed.

I was not looking forward to Friday, despite the fact that it was so warm, I carried my jacket and wore mid-length sleeved shirt and a pair of khakis. I got to school, and looked around the parking lot, hoping that he decided to finish out the week after all. To my amazement, I saw what I was looking for, the silver Volvo, but only then did I notice that one of Edward's sister, Rosalie, was standing beside it. She gave my truck a withering look and walked away. I was willing to bet he actually wasn't here.

Of course, by the time I got to Trig, the staring had become rather noticeable.

"Jessica," I whispered as I sat down, "you didn't happen to tell the entire school the contents of our conversation last night, did you?"

"Not all of them," she said in exasperation. "I do respect your privacy."

I felt my insides liquefy, "You…"

"What?" she asked, looking at my face. "What is it?"

"You told them?" I asked, feeling suddenly hollow. "You really told them?"

"What?" she asked, almost looking scared. "What's the big deal?"

"It's my business, Jessica," I said, trying not to raise my voice. "It wasn't for you to spread around the school! I have never been on a date in my life, and now I am going to have to walk around with the entire school breathing down my neck."

I stood up.

"Bella?" Jess asked as I gathered my things and sat in the back of the room. Of course, that only made it all the more noticeable when people turned to watch me.

I didn't speak to Jessica at all for the rest of third period. I didn't meet her in the bathroom between classes, and I sat away from her during fourth period too.

"Are you okay?" asked Angela when I got into the lunch line with her. She looked back to see Jessica put at least three or four people between us.

"I don't want to talk about it," I said.

Angela smiled, "Okay. Are you caught up in Biology since you were out yesterday?"

"Yes," I said. "I mean, I think so. I read the pages I was supposed to, but I don't have a very good idea what we actually went over."

"I will help you," she said. "Let's get our food and I can give you some bullet points once we sit down."

Jessica sat on the other side of the group from us. Even while studying a bit, it was hard to not get distracted by the overly animated Mike, going on at length about the beach trip he had planned for Saturday.

"Are you still coming, Bella?" he asked. "The weather is going to be really nice!"

"Sure," I said, hardly looking up. It had been a while since I had been to the beach. I would be nice to see the tide pools again.

"Awesome!" he said, and I managed to catch Jessica wilting out of the corner of my eye.

"We'll meet at my folk's store on Saturday at ten," he said.

I was just packing up and walking to class when Lauren stood up in front of me. I was lagging behind because I had to clean up my food and my books, and she had stayed behind too.

"You need to apologize to Jessica," she said, her words hard.

I looked her over. She hadn't really talk to me very much since I had arrived in Forks. I knew from Jess that she had dated both Tyler and Mike the previous year, and even though she was easily one of the most popular girls in school, she didn't really do anything to earn it outside of maintaining her appearance.

"That is none of your business," I said calmly, if a bit coolly.

"She was crying in the bathroom today," she said. "I don't know what you did to her to convenience that she is the most horrible person in the world, but you don't get to treat people like a bitch just because they don't do what you want them to do."

I looked at Lauren, taking a deep breath. I smiled.

"Thank you," I said. "I will keep that in mind."

I didn't feel the need to point out that she was doing exactly that in that moment, but only just. It wouldn't have helped anything. I walked away, stepping around her.

Mike was waiting for me at the door to the cafeteria.

"What was that about?" he asked.

"Just girl talk," I said.

"So," he said, "it's crazy today."

"Yeah," I said, half sarcastically. "Almost shorts weather."

Mike, who was wearing cargo shorts, laughed, "Yeah, I finally get to see what your forearms look like."

There was a moment of silence.

"Okay," he admitted, "that was weird. Scratch that. I wasn't talking about the weather, actually."

"Oh?" I asked. "What's crazy then?"

He shrugged, "Everyone seems to think you going to the dance now."

I took a deep breath, "I am."

"Oh, cool!" he said. "Stag is totally fun. The guys and I will total all dance with you."

I could see a bit of worry in his eyes. He had heard, and he didn't want it to be true.

"Mike," I said, and he seemed to get it.

"So," he said. "Which was it? His money or his looks?"

I stopped walking.

"That's really harsh," I said, and started walking away from him.

"Bella," he said. "Wait. You're right. That was stupid."

I slowed so he could catch up.

"I just…" he said, sighing, "I don't like it. Cullen is kind of a creep, to me anyway. I just… Man, I sound like an asshole, but I really just don't… like you with him. I don't want to see you get hurt."

Mike was a nice guy, even if he was still just a guy.

"I appreciate that," I said without heat. "But it is my life, Mike. It's my decision."

"Okay," he said. "Okay. I'll still save you that dance, though."

I shook my head, "I don't think that will go over well with either of our dates."

"I thought it was your choice," he pointed out.

Still smiling, I said, "And I am choosing no."

He nodded, "Can't blame a guy for trying."

Biology was rather boring when I was sitting at the lab table alone. Thanks to Angela, I was well prepared and had no trouble keeping up. By Gym, I was ready to go home already.

I walked into the locker room, and found Jess sitting in front of my locker. Lauren was right; she looked downright miserable.

"I'm so sorry," she gushed, standing up as soon as I made my way over to her. "I'm a horrible person! I never should have-"

"Jess, Jess!" I said, taking her arms in my hands. "It's okay."

"It is?" she asked, a bit tearily.

"I know you didn't do it on purpose," I said. "I was putting some space between us because I need time to calm down. I wasn't holding this against you. I didn't really pay attention to how it looked to you because I was too busy dealing with my own stuff. That's just how I act when I need some time to get my emotions back in line. It had nothing to do with you. Yeah, you screwed up, but you're human. You get to do that. It's done, and me being mad at you isn't going to change that. Just… next time, could you not talk about me and my business without checking with me first? I don't really like the whole limelight thing."

"Yes," she said. "Of course. I'm so…"

I hugged her, briefly. It quieted her.

"I am too," I said. "It really is okay."

"You know," said Jess, trying to hide the fact that she was wiping away a tear or two, "you're kind of like my best friend, you know that?"

I smiled, "You're mine too. I could say Angela, but she is everyone's best friend."

Jess smiled too, "I know. Don't you just hate it?!"

"Oh," I said, matching her teasing tone, "it's the worst."

We changed out for Gym and the rest of the day went smoothly enough. I encouraged Jess to go talk to Mike when they had the chance and got all my homework done early. I was cleaning my room when Charlie brought home a pizza and we munched over napkins so there wouldn't be any dishes.

"Any plans this weekend?" he asked.

I nodded while chewing and swallowed.

"Group of friends are going out to First Beach," I said. "Should be fun."

"Is Tyler going?" he asked pointedly.

"I have no idea," I said. "It doesn't matter either way if he is."

Charlie nodded in approval.

The night passed quickly enough. I slept restlessly, dreams that I didn't fully comprehend weaving in and out of my consciousness. I got up earlier than I would have liked, and had time to finish cleaning my room and running a load of laundry, starting the drier before I had to leave. I caught Charlie before he left, and he said that he would be back late that night, planning a fishing trip with friends and said he would be on the water all day. He gave me the number for the station if I needed to reach him by radio. I sighed and said I would be fine before driving over to Newton's Olympic Outfitters.

There were a few cars already there, and Mike was standing in front of his Suburban chatting with people as I pulled up.

"Wow!" he said as I stepped out. "You made it!"

He made it sound like he wasn't sure.

"Why wouldn't I?" I asked.

"No reason," he said quickly. "Is there… anyone else coming?"

Subtle Mike was not.

"No," I said, wondering why I didn't think to ask him. He might be back today. How long does one normally camp? Why didn't I ask these things when I had the chance?

"Good," Mike said. "That's good."

I recognized most of the people there. Lauren, Angela, and Tyler were there, along with two boys whose names I had heard a time or two, and three girls who I had no idea who they were. I thought I had Gym with one of them, and her unimpressed look seemed to confirm it.

"No Jess yet?" I asked, looking around.

"Not yet," he said. "We are just waiting on her."

I naturally gravitated towards Angela, who smiled a greeting, and drove Lauren to go socialize with the other girls. I noticed that they were shooting speculative looks at Tyler, and the occasional unimpressed look at me too. That was new.

"Hey," I said to Angela. "What's up with that?"

Angela looked at me quizzically, "With what?"

"Is Lauren just being Lauren or did I do something?" I asked.

"I'm not sure," she said honestly. "She hasn't said anything to me about it, but then again, most people don't gossip with me. I don't think I'm a very good gossipee."

I smiled, "That isn't a bad thing. Besides, there are more important things to talk about. I would rather talk about myself more than someone else any day."

"Like who you are going to the dance with?" she added, her tone only a little pointed.

I grimaced, "You heard about that, huh?"

She smiled, "I am not sure who hasn't. Do you think that is why Lauren is being weird?"

"Maybe," I said. "I didn't really want it spread around the school and Jess sort of took the brunt of my frustration. We already reconciled, but maybe Lauren is carrying a grudge."

"Maybe," Angela said lightly.

We enjoyed a comfortable silence while waiting for Jessica. It got to the point that several kids hopped into a minivan and head down rather than waiting. Finally, Jess arrived. She was dressed rather nicely in tan capris and a loose and draping white shirt. Her hair and makeup were done, and by the way the other girls looked at her made her obvious effort all the more obvious.

"Hey Mike," she said pleasantly. "Are we all here?"

"Yeah," he said, not giving her much of a look, "We were just waiting for you."

Between his tone and his words, her expression fell a little flat.

"Oh," she said, then trying to save face. "That's cool. Let's go then."

"Okay," he said turning. "Hey Bella! Why don't you ride shotgun."

Mike was looking at me, so he didn't see the shock and hurt cross Jessica's face. I looked at the Suburban and then did a quick head count. I was in luck.

"Okay," I said, and Jess looked even more hurt. Until I walked up to her and said, "Come on Jess."

I opened the front seat for her, and looked confused.

"We need every seat," I said, "including the center up front."

She looked entirely grateful and immediately jumped in. I slid in behind her and while Mike didn't look entirely happy with the arrangement, Jess was cheerful and soon he was enjoying the attention she was giving him.

The drive to the beach was quick, and arriving was like stepping back in time. Suddenly, I was a little girl again, walking the thin beaches with the children of my father's friends who I could barely remember. I was clopping in overlarge boots looking for sand dollars. I never went in for sand castles, but I enjoyed helping kick them down to flat beach again after the other kids were done with them. And a remembered a single sunset over the water, making it look like molten gold and pink. Somehow, I felt a deeper connection here than I did in Forks. This felt more real, more grounded than most of my memories from my childhood in the area. This felt like home.

The day was long and fun. We talked and laughed and ate picnic foods. Several kids brought Frisbees and a football. When being around Lauren became too much, I went with a group to watch the diverse and alien life of the tidal pools. I could have stayed there all day, and I did stay there the longest, managing to get back just before dark with only a few scrapes to my palms for my troubles.

"There you are," said Mike as I walked up. "Have you ever seen a driftwood fire?"

"I don't think so," I said. I couldn't remember ever having one down here.

"Then you haven't," he said with a smile. "You'd remember."

Mike had been good all day. He had mostly been with Jess and she seemed pleased. Even now she didn't seem fussed by him talking with me. They started up the fire and I watched as blue and lavender flames started intermixing with the usual orange. I was so enraptured, I missed it when a few more kids from the reservation started coming by. I looked up and there were suddenly a half dozen extra people around, ranging from about Freshman age to maybe even middle or late twenties. The oldest boy looked more like a parent, the way he looked over everyone else and took part only in so much that he didn't stop watching over the rest of us.

As I was noticing this older young man, I also noticed one of the younger boys noticing me. He was thin in that way boys have when they have grown quite a lot rather quickly. His face was still very young and roundly boyish, but there was a certain maturity in his eyes that didn't belie an almost eager warmth. Looking at him a moment longer, I realized he seemed familiar.

I walked over a minute later.

"Hey," I said.

"Hey," he said in matching tones, his rough voice a bit deeper than I would have thought.

"Do I know you?" I asked. A few of the girls near me quieted down.

"I don't know," he said, his voice a little playful and teasing, "do you?"

I didn't really remember names at all. It had been years since I had last been in Forks at all, let alone to the beach. I was trying to remember anything I could, so I just took a stab at it.

"Are you Billy's son?" I asked, raking my memory. "Jay something?"

"Wow," he said, sounding genuinely impressed. "Yeah, actually. Jacob. I'm surprised you remember me at all. I would have thought you would have remembered my sisters more, Rachel and Rebecca."

Them I did remember, now that he mentioned it, which meant that it was his mom too that had died in a car wreck years before my last visit here. And it was Billy that was confined to a wheelchair. He seemed awfully cheerful for someone who had so much tragedy in his past.

"I do," I said. "Remember them, I mean. Now that you mention it. But I don't remember the last time I've seen them. Are they here?"

"Nah," said happily. "Rachel is at school, Washington State, and Rebecca is in Hawaii with her husband. Married a surfer."

He made it sound like it was a cardinal sin, except for the smile tugging at his lips.

"You look good," he said, his expression never changing. "Not that you didn't before, but still."

I smiled, "What about you? I don't seem to remember you being so tall."

He was maybe my height that last time I saw him. Now, he was like a head taller than me.

"Wish Bella would make up her mind," I heard in a stage whisper somewhere behind me. "How many guys does she need to date to sate her… appetites?"

I recognized Lauren's voice. I really wished that I could say what she said didn't hurt, but it did. Jacob seemed to take the whole thing in. He stood up. He seemed even taller that way. Lauren saw and stopped talking.

"You need to apologize," he said, his tone totally different, the happy go lucky kid replaced by a stern confidence and maturity. Lauren looked affronted.

"No I don't," she said. She was going to say something more, but before she could, the other boys from the reservation at the fire seemed to notice what was going on and stood too.

"This is our beach," said Jacob. "You insulted my friend. So, you can either apologize or you can leave."

"I'm not-" she started, but she noticed that the kids from school were edging away from her and Mike looked incredibly nervous, staring at her imploringly.

"I…" she said, looking at the three oldest there, all between six and seven feet tall. One of them looking like he was prepared to chase her the whole way back to Forks.

"She doesn't need to apologize," I said firmly. "I don't care."

And I didn't care. She screwed up, and she knew that now. Nothing more needed to be done.

Jacob looked at me, closely, "Are you sure?"

I looked at Lauren. She looked angry, but that anger couldn't cover the much deeper and large fear in her eyes. I honestly pitied her more than anything.

"I'm sure," I said evenly.

The boys all sat back down, all except Jacob.

"Come on," he said, offering me a hand to help me stand. "Let's go for a walk."

He pulled me to my feet, and when I let go, there was a split second before he did too. We had just moved out of easy earshot when he said, "So, you have a boyfriend?"

"No," I said, trying not to sound irritated. "Not really."

"What's up?" he asked, catching my tone.

"School stuff," I said. "I am going to the dance next week with a boy that is notorious for not dating. The whole school knows about it, and it wasn't my decision for them to know."

"Oh," he said. "Why is the boy… notable for not dating?"

I felt myself go a little pink as I said, "A lot of girls think he is attractive."

He laughed, but in a way that made me feel like he wasn't laughing at me, even if he was.

"I get it," he said, grinning. "You don't want people to think the wrong thing about you. You think they will think you are shallow and going to with the guy just because he is hot."

I nearly tripped in the sand as I came up short.

"Yeah," I said. "That's it, exactly."

How had he known that? I don't even think I had known that.

"Are you?" he asked.

"Am I what?" I asked back.

"Going out with him because he is hot?" he asked.

"No!" I said loudly, offended.

He gave me a knowing look.

"Okay," I said, "not just because he's… pretty."

Ugh! That sounded awful.

"Own it," he said. "There is nothing wrong with going out with someone because you are attracted to them. Relationships like that don't last though. You need a guy who can make you smile."

I smiled, "Oh, is that a fact?"

"Yep," he said. "And who also happens to be ruggedly handsome."

I couldn't help myself, "Too bad there isn't any guys around here like that."

"Ooh!" he said, grinning more broadly. "And the ref takes a point away!"

I giggled, and looked out at the darkening evening, night coming on in full.

"So," he asked, "who is this guy you're kinda sorta maybe dating?"

"Edward Cullen," I said. It was Jacob's turn to come up short. I wasn't sure why, until he burst out laughing.

"What?" I asked.

He actually fell into the sand, rolling, holding his stomach, laughing all the harder.

"WHAT?!" I asked a second time, starting to feel embarrassed.

"No!" he wheezed out between laughs. "That's… too… funny!"

He finally subsided.

"Cullen?" he asked, trying to catch his breath. "One of the doctor's kids?"

"Yes," I said. "What's so funny?"

He shook his head, "I can't."

"You can't what?" I asked.

He looked suddenly embarrassed himself, and also a little worried.

"No, really," he said. "I can't talk about it. I could get into trouble. It's sort of… like a legend."

I was totally confused.

"Huh?" I asked. What did a legend have to do with the Cullens?

"Look," he said. "I shouldn't even be talking about this. My dad would kill me. This is tribe stuff, you know? I can't."

I was about to let it go, say that it was okay, when something fit itself together in my head.

This was it; this had something to do with Edward's secret, the one he wouldn't tell me. I was suddenly desperate to know what it was.

I thought about it. How did you get someone to tell you something they didn't want to? Oh, that just sounded terrible! How could I change his mind? That was better.

"Oh," I said, finding that it was surprising easy to feel hurt. Now that I thought about it, I realized that I really had liked it here when I had visited, liked it better than Forks. Rebecca and Rachel had made me feel welcome here, and even though I knew I would always be an outsider here, I didn't feel that kind of belonging very often. Losing even this little bit kinda hurt.

"Don't do that," complained Jacob.

I shook my head, "You're right. I'm sorry."

I meant that. I didn't like feeling I was taking advantage, but not enough to stop myself from what I did next.

"It's just…" I said, my voice trailing off. How the heck was I going to do this?

"Just what?" he asked.

"I've never dated anyone before," I said. "If you know something about him that I should know, it might be important."

"It's isn't anything like that," said Jacob, sounding worried for me more than worried about getting in trouble.

I softened my expression. I let the want for the truth fill my voice and my face.

"Please," I said simply. "Please, Jake."

He looked momentarily like he had just had a minor head injury. And I should know.

"Urgh!" he exclaimed, and wheeled about to start walking towards the surf a few steps before pacing back.

"You have to promise not to tell anyone," he said, his words heavy and his tone serious.

"Okay," I said.

"Promise," he said again.

"Okay," I said again.

"Say it!" he said loudly.

"Okay," I said, "I promise."

He looked around, "Not here. Come on."

By his lead, Jacob took me a little further down the beach to a spot where a large piece of driftwood laid on it side with gnarled roots pitched to the sky and a trunk that was a pretty decent bench. We sat in the relative quiet, night coming in full, the area bathed in only starlight and moonlight from the mostly gone waning crescent.

"Alright," he said, "just… please don't think we are a bunch of superstitious natives or anything. Okay?"

"Okay," I soothed. "It's alright. I won't judge you."

"Sure, sure," he said. "So, how much do you know or remember about our legends? Did my sisters ever tell you anything?"

"Not that I remember," I admitted.

"So," he said. "I can't tell you all of it. Some of it is really boring and other parts take way too long. But the short version goes like this. Long ago, we were a well known and respected tribe. We were a magic people, and spirit warriors protected us. And when we went to war, we did so only once, with peoples who did not know what we were, and never again once they did."

His voice had changed, taking on a practiced cadence, almost like reciting poetry, only not at all like any poet I had ever heard.

"Then came the time of the shape shifting warriors," he said, "those that could take the form of animal warriors to protect the tribe against those threats that our warriors alone could not fight."

I stared at him in the near darkness, "What sorts of threats?"

"Just one," he said, then added with a smirk, "that we know of."

"What is it?" I asked, feeling shivers run up and down my spine.

"The night walkers," he said. "The cold ones. Those of pale beauty that drink the blood of their felled foes."

Pale beauty…

"You mean…" I asked, but couldn't get the word out.

He turned and with overdone menace, he finished, "Vampires!"

I think he wanted me to laugh. I managed a shallow chuckle.

"There is a story," he went on, sounding more like his usual self, "from my great grandfather's time, of a family of the cold ones who came here, looking to live away from big cities and so many people. They said they were peaceful, and there was something different about their eyes."

He paused for me to interrupt, but I was too busy thinking about the eyes, how all the Cullen seemed to have unnaturally colored eyes, as though they were wearing contacts. He went on.

"They created a treaty with Ephraim Black," he said. "So long as they stayed off our land and did not kill any humans here, we would not attack them or out them to any of you people."

He nudged me with his hip and I jousted, managing a weak smile.

"So," I said, my voice as quavery and unsubstantial as my smile, "what? The Cullens are like these cold ones, like from before?"

"No," he said, playing up his words again. "They are the same ones."


	8. Chapter 8: Nightmare

I was numb. I made my way back with Jacob, but my mind wasn't on what we were talking about. It wasn't on the beach around me. It wasn't even on what Jacob had told me or on the Cullens at all. It was blank. I could tell I was in some kind of shock, and as soon as I made it home, where I could be away from everyone, I was going to open Pandora's box.

"It was great to see you Bella," Jacob said as we made our goodbyes. I could see Mike off to one side, giving him a speculative look.

"You too, Jake," I said.

"Maybe I will see you later," he said.

"Just like old times," I agreed.

We piled into the Suburban and the minivan. This time, I slipped into the back without complaint, saying nothing and spending the whole time looking out the window, waiting. The ride to my truck was short. I barely said goodbye to everyone, before climbing into my truck and riding the even shorter trip home.

The house was dark when I got there. Charlie wasn't back yet. I went through all the motions. I showered, and changed into clean clothes, which helped a lot to clear my head. And then, I went to the minor music collection I had, pulling out a CD Phil had gotten me last Christmas. It was the only CD I hadn't ever listened to before. I put it in the old CD player I had, and stuck in my headphones. I laid back on the bed, above the covers, my eyes closed, and listened to the music.

It was just under an hour long. I listened to it intently, with my entire focus on it. I listen to every word and every line, and four hours later, I knew most, if not all, of the lyrics to all the songs. Two hours after that, I could sing along with them with ease.

By the end of the sixth play through, I turned off the CD player. I walked over to the computer, and turned it on. I waited until it had booted up and started up the modem. I waited through the dial in and finally got online. I pulled up a search engine and searched for Vampires.

It was slow going. Adding words like "real" or "actual" only linked to people who made fake video accounts or written accounts in chat rooms or message boards. Adding the word "mythology" was more informative, but less practical. Vampires seemed to be justification for things people couldn't explain, like consumption and other diseases, or things people didn't want to explain, like infidelity. Vampires explained an unexpected birth of a child about as readily as it explained the unexpected death of one. Their abilities and characteristics varied wildly from culture to culture, along with their origins and how they were created. Gods or magic or demons or witches or spirits or fairies or suicide after a forced marriage; there didn't seem to be anything that could link these legends to anything I had seen or heard of. Not a single site seemed to be particularly definitive, and most had either had more information than I really need or not nearly enough. Everything was confusing and muddled and after an hour, it was now nearly two in the morning, and nothing else had changed.

I looked outside. Charlie was home, probably some time while I was listening to music. I got up and went downstairs quietly. Despite being in my night things and being very tired, I slipped on my shoes, put on my jacket and went outside.

It was dark but quiet, all except for the misting drizzle that sounding like distant running sand. I put up my hood and looked around the yard. I found what I was looking for, a path that lead into the woods. It suddenly occurred to me that this might not be the best idea. I was, after all, trying to entertain the idea that vampires existed. Walking into the woods this late at night was probably dangerous, even without having to worry about otherworldly creatures of the night. I didn't care. I needed to get away from reality, from people, to be completely alone with only my own thoughts.

I walked until I couldn't see any of the houses, any evidence of human civilization. Then, I stepped off the path. I walked through the tree line, went to the first tree that sheltered me from the drizzle, then put my back to it. I couldn't see the path, but if I just walked straight, I would find it again. Sitting there, I started to think.

Edward could be a vampire. What did that mean? Obviously, he had been hit by a van and walked away. That didn't exactly scream vampire, but it was one explanation. But other things seemed to fit. The way he believed that he was the worst person I knew, the way he looked at me like he wanted to kill me that first day, those things seemed very vampire-like to me. Also, him believing that I would think he was crazy if he told me the truth or that I might believe him and never want to see him again. That too made a lot of sense. But also, leaving for my own good made sense too. And with that, something else settle down into me.

Edward had saved my life. He had stepped in when the van likely would have killed me. He had said that if I wanted him to leave, he would. Was this why he had left me a way out, why he was saying that if I wanted him to leave, that he would, because he knew that if or when I found out, I would immediately reject him? That suddenly made a lot of sense and also was very sad. I felt my chest ache and my stomach twist at the very idea of what that would be like, if he were to suddenly say that I was a monster and that he never wanted to see me again. Granted, I had no real idea how he felt about me, but what I could imagine right now hurt more than enough for me not to want to consider what it would be like if it were worse.

And then, I thought about him actually leaving. The idea of him being gone, of me never getting to talk with him about anything, ever again, of not getting to have him see me like he did, of calling me out on the lies I was telling myself or asking me the hard questions I had never thought to ask myself, of me never getting to see him smile and happy, to see that sadness leave his face, to dance with him, never getting to…

In that moment, I knew one truth; I didn't want Edward gone. With that I knew and the information that I had right then, I didn't want him to leave. I had questions, and honestly, if he had been there that exact moment, I would have asked him. Was it true? Why did he think he was a bad person? Did he hurt people? What was it like to be what he was? How did it make him different from other boys? What did he want? What did he want most in the world? What did he want to do with his life, however long it was? How long was his life? How old was he? What had he seen? What had he done? Who was he really? Was there anything he couldn't do that a non vampire could? Could he… love?

I finally stood up and found the path, even though it took two tries and I almost panicked for a second. It didn't matter. I didn't know what he was, but I knew that I wished he was here that very minute. It scared me that I was willing to be beside him, even when I knew he could be something dangerous. But I also knew that even if he could be scary, I wasn't scared. Even if he was something potentially monstrous, he wasn't a monster. He had saved me and treated me well. I am sure that if he wanted to really kill me, he probably could have. But given all that I had seen and knew about him, he was, at the very least, trying to be good. He was trying to be something better. I wanted to be a part of that, to help him if I could. I wanted to know him, truly, as he really was, no deceptions, no exceptions.

I slipped back inside, and changed into some slightly less dirty and damp clothing. I considered showering again, and settled for washing up thoroughly. I climbed into bed, closed my eyes, and fell asleep almost immediately.

I don't remember exactly how the dream began. It seemed to merge with a part of my memory from the night before, with Jacob, on the beach, but it was full day. We had been talking and laughing and I wasn't sure if we were alone on the beach or if I just couldn't see anyone. As I looked around, I noticed that the western horizon was black. It was like the line where sky met sea had been filled in with a thick pen and was slowly becoming thicker. I went back to talking and laughing with Jacob, but the line kept getting big and began to bow upwards as it came. I could see stars in that darkness and realized all at once, as you do in dreams, that the line was, in fact, the border that separates night from day, and as it moved forward, the night was coming on, shifting the sky and the sea as one in its passage inexorably towards us.

"What is that?" I asked Jacob, my voice calm, curious. The line of night was licking the surf and edging onto the sand. Jacob looked around, "What?"

"That," I said, pointing.

He finally saw the darkness, and instantly grabbed my hand and started to drag me away.

"Run, Bella!" he cried. "We have to run!"

"Why?" I asked, unsure what he was suddenly so concerned. I went along with him, but I was not quick to adopt his worry. The darkness seemed to hurry as we did, as though even if we ran, it matched pace with us and yet still crept ever closer. We were heading for the woods, and something about it seemed sort of ominous to me, sort of like entering the woods that night had been.

"Go, Bella!" Jacob all but screamed, the night catching up with us as he pushed me through the tree line. The night passed all around us, time slowing for the instant it took to cross us. Then, it sped past us all at once, and it was night in full. I passed the trees, but rather than running, I put a tree between me and the beach and put my back to it. Why wasn't Jacob coming? Why did he stay on the beach?

"Bella."

I knew that voice. I felt like I would answer that voice, turn towards it, even if I were asleep. I felt almost as though it might stir me even in death.

I turned my attention back towards the woods and he was there. He was dressed in a nice modern suit, all in black and fitted, which suited him but still seemed at odds with him somehow. His pale skin shown in the night, as though in moonlight that fell on him alone. His hair was an eye drawing flair of copper and his dark eyes were the darkest I had ever seen them, his iris wide and his sclera all but a thin line. And yet those eyes seemed to reflect the light from every star in the sky, shining like globes of night. He smiled, and pronounced canines pressed into his full lower lip, their press giving evidence of how soft those lips were.

"Edward," I sighed, and something seemed to softening to me, as thought righting something I hadn't know was out of order, fitting a piece of me back into place that I hadn't known was missing.

"I missed you," he said, and I felt myself pink in pleasure.

"I missed you too," I said beginning to walk closer to him as he walked closer to me. Before I could even consider what I was really doing, we stood toe to toe, and he stepped even closer, his hands coming up and taking my forearms in a way that made me feel supported and yet also possessed in a way that I realized I liked. It felt right to be here, to be so close to him. I didn't mind that his hands were so cold again my skin or that I felt no pulse of life within his flesh.

One of those hands let go of me, passing upwards towards my face. I felt a cold and smooth thumb press at my lower lip, and I felt my knees weaken and my body go pliant under his touch.

"Can I…" he said, his eyes heavy-lidded, "have a taste?"

My shiver had less to do with the coolness of him and everything to do with the closeness, the intonation and intention of his words. I couldn't speak, and felt myself nod.

He leaned in, bowing towards me, and I felt my eyes flutter shut. And the moment I expected his lips to land, they did, upon the curve of my neck.

I gasped, but did not pull away. The sensation was so intense, his soft lips, the lingering of cool moisture, the hint of hard teeth behind his soft and languid kisses. Soon, I was entirely within his arms, his fathomless strength holding me up and to him. I couldn't think to know what would happen next, but I couldn't find it in myself to mind.

The trees around us shook as suddenly something passed them, slamming in between them, bringing a wash of sand in its speeding wake. Edward quickly and carefully propped me against the tree and turned his back to me, placing himself between me and it.

I wasn't entirely sure what it was. It was four legged and massive, but in the dark night, it could have been a bear or a massive wolf or mutant cougar or some other nightmarish monster I have yet to see or name. It growled a low, vicious sound and Edward made a sharp spitting, hissing sound. The two clashed violently, and rolled towards the woods away from me.

"No!" I cried, finding my feet and charging after them. "No! Don't hurt him!"

I reached out a hand, stepped further, and promptly fell out of bed.

I hit the floor with a muted thump. I should have hit harder, but my blanket was bunched under me and muffled the sound and the impact. My sheet was twisted about my torso, and as I groggily stood, I disentangled myself. Still shaking, I put my bedding back upon my bed and went to the bathroom to get a sip of water. Running water into my cupped hand, I drank a few gulps down. I lingered, leave my water cooled fingers pressed to my lips, my eyes closed, before drawing them down the edge of my neck. Drying my hand I walked back towards my bed. Standing in the center of my room, I turned and looked to my window. It was dark and empty beyond it. I curled back into bed, wondering what would have happened if that thing hadn't interrupted Edward and wondering what I wanted to have happened and if they were the same thing.

I slept in the next day. Charlie gave me a weird look when I came downstairs for food after ten, obviously having just gotten up.

"Late night?" he asked me wearily.

"I didn't sleep very well," I said honestly. "I didn't really get to bed until nearly two."

"Hmm," he grunted. "Are you getting sick? Did something happen?"

"I'm fine, Dad," I said, smiling indulgently at him.

He looked closer at me, "Are you sure? There's… I don't know. Just something about you."

"What?" I asked, feigning worried. "Is it my hair?"

He sighed and said flatly, "Ha ha. You're so funny. Ho ho."

I smiled and started making pancakes for myself.

"Okay," he said. "Now I know something is up."

"What?" I asked.

"I remember how adamant you were about pancakes," he said. "Pancakes were special and for special occasions only. You practically cried about it that one time I suggest you get some at the Diner."

I remembered that too. I hadn't even thought about it. The last time I had made pancakes was for my mother, the day after she told me Phil proposed. What was a convincing lie? Was there a reason to lie? I mean, it wasn't like I could talk about anything that was going on with me and Edward. Aside from possibly locking me up because he thought I might be crazy, if I told him that I might be dating, there was a chance that I might get locked up for entirely different reasons, given the keys and the mace and such. So, I just told him the truth.

"I just felt like pancakes," I said, measuring out ingredients. "You want any?"

"Sure," he said. He moved to the stool at the counter with his coffee, watching me intently. I decided I should have kept my big mouth shut.

"So," he said, "still planning on going out of town next weekend?"

I came up short. Right. Was I? I mean, I know a lot of girls go all out, with the hair and everything, taking hours to get ready, and that really wasn't me. But also, I was going with Edward, and I could use all the help I could get. Maybe Angela or Jessica would help me with makeup. Maybe I should just go to Seattle on Saturday and not come home until after the dance was over.

"I am not sure," I said honestly.

He smiled, "Really? Why is that?"

Crap. That last thing I needed was Charlie starting to poke his nose in.

"I, huh…" I said. "I'm not sure about the truck."

He looked concerned, "What's wrong with the truck?"

"Nothing," I said quickly. "I mean, nothing yet. I just, I haven't taken it that far before. I'd hate to get halfway to Seattle and have it break down on me. I might need to get it looked at first."

He smiled, "Uh huh. You know that it would be expensive to give it a tune up in town."

"Oh," I said. "I don't think I know anyone who knows anything about cars."

"Hmm," Charlie mused, and something about his words made me think he was up to something or maybe thought I was up to something. I wasn't sure.

"I know someone you might be able to ask," he said.

I tested the heated pan and kept stirring batter.

"Oh?" I asked. "Who?"

"Do you remember Jacob Black?" he asked, a knowing look on his face.

I sighed, "So, you talked to Billy?"

He looked instantly affronted, "I- No. What?"

I shook my head, "You're a worse liar than I am, Dad."

Charlie looked rather sheepish.

"Oh, alright," he said. "I may have been there when I helped Billy home and he asked Jacob why he was in such a good mood. Wasn't hard to figure out."

"Good mood?" I asked, dolloping batter down.

"Oh no," said Charlie. "I am not going to do that. You want to know, you talk to Jacob."

I considered, "Okay. What does that have to do with my truck though?"

He grinned, "Who do you think took care of it?"

I frowned, "Jacob?"

"Yeah," said Charlie. "The kid is good with mechanics. He is working on his own car, pulled an old junker from the yard and has been working it up into something drivable. May even getting it running by the time he turns sixteen."

"Wow," I said, sounding impressed. "That's pretty cool."

"So," he said. "There you go. If you want to tune up, Jacob's your man. So to speak."

I gave Charlie a teasing smile, "I don't know, Dad. Jake is pretty cute."

He gave me a pained look, "Don't do that."

"Maybe he can take me on a long drive afterword," I said meaningfully. "Then we can find some place to… park."

"You will do no such thing," he said, his tone making it hard to tell how serious he was. "I won't have you corrupting that young man. Jacob is a good boy."

I laughed, "Jeez Dad, relax. I am not going to do any corrupting. It isn't exactly like… well…"

He gave me a look, "Do I want you to finish that sentence?"

"Ugh, fine," I said in discomfort. "I have never even kissed a boy, Dad. So, yeah, no corruption here."

There was a long pause. I flipped pancakes.

"Well," Charlie said. "Jacob wouldn't be the worst-"

"Dad!" I exclaimed. "I do not need dating advice!"

"I'm just saying," he started, defensive.

"Out!" I said. "You can come back when they're done. Out!"

Charlie walked off towards the living room, muttering something about it being his kitchen after all. I kept cooking.

I didn't need to have my truck looked after. I only really needed the excuse to not go and change my plans last minute. That way, I wouldn't have to sit back and have Charlie nitpick and badger me about the dance or my date from now until Saturday. I could work with this.

The pancakes turned out quite well. The rest of Sunday was good too. I finished up my usual chores, finished up the last of my homework, and had a conversation with Jess. We made plans for the following night to head into Port Angeles with Angela and, sigh, Lauren to look at dresses. I asked her if she can help me out with makeup, and she got so giggly and excited, I immediately had second thoughts. She said to come over to her place directly after school and that we would work on a look before making final decisions once we knew important details like what dress I would be wearing and such. I made her swear up and down like five times that she would not treat me like a life-sized doll, and she agreed.

Monday morning couldn't have come soon enough. When I woke, I was surprised by just how clear and sunny it was. Sunlight literally beamed through my window, waking me early as soon as it cleared the trees. I bumped into Charlie before he left for the day.

"Morning Bells," he said. "You seem chipper, and early. What gives?"

"I swear," I said, "am I going to get the twenty questions every time I do something different?"

"Probably," he said.

"It's a nice day," I pointed out, "and sunny."

And I got to go back to school today. Being excited to be back at school should be against the rules or something, but I was.

I packed up and drove in early, having nothing else to do. I was sitting there, waiting at a set of picnic benches, trying not to think about who I was waiting for and why, when someone approached me.

I turned around at the noise before I could check how eager I was.

"Oh," I said, feeling my face fall. "Hey Mike."

"Hey," he said. He was actually wearing shorts.

"How are you doing?" he asked, sitting across from me.

"Fine," I said. He looked a little put out.

"Were you expecting someone?" he asked.

"No," I said, looking at the parking lot. No silver Volvo.

"Not especially," I added.

"Cool," he said. "Do you have any plans tonight?"

"Yes," I said, "I do, actually."

"Oh," he said. "Hey, what about tomorrow night?"

"Why?" I asked, a sinking sort of suspicion filling me.

He seemed a little bit flustered at how direct my questions were.

"I was wondering if maybe you wanted to go out," he said, a bit lamely.

I stared at him.

"It doesn't have to be like a date," he backpedaled. "Just… you know, get a burger and all of that."

For a moment, I really wanted to judge Mike. It would have been super easy to sit back and just think he was being a jerk. But I knew one thing for sure. People don't see when they are being a jerk. They really can't see it. People don't wake up, and see the options of being a jerk or being a decent human being and choose jerk. Mike couldn't see what he was doing wrong. He was just doing the best he could with what was in front of him, unable to see any other good option.

"No," I said. "Thank you."

He looked a little hurt and more confused.

"What?" he almost heckled in defiance. "Why not?"

I shrugged, keeping my expression pleasant.

"I don't owe you an explanation, Mike," I said lightly but not carelessly. "You asked, and I answered."

"But…" he began, and I looked at him, in his eyes.

"Michael," I said firmly. "I understand why you are upset. I know you wanted this to go a different way, but I have a right to make my own decisions. And I have. I am not going to change my mind. That's just not the type of girl that I am. This is my choice. You would be much better off accepting it than trying to change it."

He looked taken aback.

"Fine," he said, shortly.

He stood up. He looked around, as if trying to find something, somewhere to go, something to say.

I sighed, "Hey, Mike."

He came up short, "What?"

"I shouldn't be telling you this," I said. "So, if you repeat it, I will deny it."

He looked confused, "Okay…"

I shook my head, "Where you paying attention at all on Saturday?"

"Yeah," he said. "You got to my parents shop towards-"

"Not me, Mike," I said.

He looked even more confused, "What do you mean?"

"What did you do?" I asked.

He shook his head, "I spent the day at the beach with you."

"No you didn't," I said. "I spent most of my time with Angela."

"Yeah," he said, "And I spent most of my time with Jess. So?"

I raised an eyebrow at him.

His expression went from confusion to dismay to speculation to doubt.

"No," he said in disbelief. "No. Jess and I dated last year. We broke up. She wouldn't want to date me again."

I turned my attention back to my spiral notebook. I hadn't realized I had been sketching. Two dark eyes stared back at me. Turned the notebook over as I said, "And who asked who to the dance?"

He stared at me for a long moment.

"What?" he stammered, still in disbelief. "No. Really?"

I sighed, and said meaningfully, "I don't know what you are talking about, because I didn't say anything."

Mike walked away without saying another word. The boy was nice, but so very dense. And blind.

I waited there until the bell rang. To my dismay, there was no silver Volvo at all. I kept an eye out in the hall, and nothing. By lunch, I was practically frantic. Once in the cafeteria, my fears were confirmed. The Cullens were not at school. Jessica and I stood in the line, and I tried to sound interested and not stare at the empty table, untouched even in their absence.

"Bella," Jessica complained, "aren't you listening?"

"Huh?" I said, turning back. "I'm sorry, what?"

"It's okay," she said. "They don't come to school when the weather is nice. They camp or whatever. It happens all the time. He isn't moving across the country and never speaking to you again. It's okay. Didn't he tell you he would be out of school?"

I thought about it, "He said he wasn't going to be here Friday, but I didn't think he meant he wouldn't be back on Monday."

"Well," she said, "he'll be back. I mean, he has to be back before Saturday. He couldn't possibly make you miss the dance."

I shook my head, "I'm okay. I just need to not dwell. You know? Keep my mind off of it. Thank goodness for the girls night tonight."

Jess gave me an unsurprised look, "Yeah, you really weren't paying attention."

"Huh?" I questioned. "What?"

"Mike asked me out tonight," she said. "He wants to get a burger and hang out. I didn't think he was really all that interested after Saturday, but he can surprise you. Are you free to reschedule tomorrow?"

I sighed, "I guess. I don't really have plans outside of homework on weekdays. I really should get a job or something."

There really was only one bright side to the rest of the day. Lauren, as it turned out, had plans with friends Tuesday that she couldn't break and wouldn't be able to make it. So, it would just be me, Jessica and Angela going the next day. Getting through the rest of the day was not fun. Getting through the evening was even less fun. I spent some time laying out on a blanket in the backyard soaking up as much sun as I could. And it didn't matter; no matter what I did, whether it was homework, reading, or just laying on the blanket with my eyes closed, I couldn't help but think of Edward. Where was he? Was he really of enjoying the nice weather? Somehow, I didn't believe that. But, if he really was a vampire, how could he come out during the day? How could I get a hold of him? I was utterly convinced that he had to be at school the next day. And if he wasn't, I would seriously consider tracking him down on Wednesday.

Alas, he was not as school Tuesday. Again, no silver Volvo, not Cullens in the cafeteria, only an empty seat in Biology. I almost hoped that he would be there after school in the parking lot, awaiting, even though he hadn't been there all day. I was about ready to call off the Port Angeles trip to go looking, but Jess talked me down.

"Come on," she said. "We have a little time. I'll follow you home, then drive you to my place. Angela will meet us there. It is close enough that she can walk from her place. We will do makeup and girly things and then go dress shopping and not talk about he who shall not be named."

I stared at her, "I thought you didn't read."

She looked confused.

"Never mind," I said. "Okay. Let's go."

By the time we got to Jess's house after swinging by mine, leaving a note for Charlie and getting my money, I was feeling pretty distracted. We ended up in Jess's bathroom, which I was pretty sure was the only one in the house. But it was huge and done over in such a way that I felt anyone could have gotten ready for anything in that bathroom and had whatever product they needed. The counters and shelves were lined with bottles and sprays and hair and makeup implements.

Jessica had this getting dressed up thing down to a science. Makeup had to match shoes or the dress but not both. Hair had to compliment the dress shape. Nothing too formal outside of prom. No more than two colors in a dress, and makeup had to match the color furthest from your face. Halter dresses were not for the flat of chest, but after eyeing me into a fit of embarrassment, she said she thought I could pull it off if I wanted. She also thought I could get away with a dress with a fitted bodice, whatever that was. But after talking it over with her, we concluded that simplicity was our best bet. We would look for a simple, one color dress, something in a blue or purple, that would work with the sensible dark dress shoes I had. Jess was showing me what she could do with eyeshadow, and I had one purple eyelid and one blue one when Angela arrived.

She was really supportive, but in the end, I put my foot down.

"I appreciate the advice, Jess," I said, "I really do, but this just isn't me. I don't want to completely cover my face with foundation and gobs of eyeliner and shadow and everything. I just want to do something simple. Tasteful. Like, I don't want anyone to see that I am wearing makeup, you know. I want to make my natural colors and just sort of accent what is there. Can we do that?"

Jessica looked disappointed, but we spent the last few minutes before we had to leave trying some tamer shades and I found one I liked. I consented to a little mascara and just a bit of blush and a nude lipstick, and the effect was actually really nice.

"Wow," said Jess and even Angela looked more than just supportive. "You look really good."

I went to go wipe it off but Jess stopped me.

"No," she said. "We can see what it looks like with the dress. It will work better that way."

I sighed, "Okay, fine, but I am not keeping it on one second longer than I have to."

We all piled into Jessica's Mercury and were on the road shortly.

"So," I said, realizing that my day had pretty much been filled with hoping that he would suddenly appear and little else, "how was your date with Mike?"

Jessica blushed just a bit.

"Umm," she said, obviously downplaying it so that I would draw it out of her, "It was…. nice."

"Nice?" I obliged her. "It was nice?"

"He… uh…" she said, getting all smiley, "he kissed me."

I glanced at Angela, who looked willing to listen and be happy for her friend but didn't look like the conversation was doing much for her.

"Yay, girl," I said in solidarity. "Congratulations."

She got a bit of a dream look in her eyes, and smiled, "Yeah. That was the one thing Mike and I never had any problems with. The boy can kiss!"

Angela started to look a little uncomfortable, and I shared her feelings. I suddenly realized a huge oversight on my part.

"Oh, jeez, Ang," I said, aghast. "I don't even know who you are taking to the dance."

She smiled, "That's okay. I'm going with Ben."

"You're going with Ben Chaney?" asked Jessica, sounding totally nonplussed and I gave her a look.

"That's great," I chimed in.

"I know," said Angela, catching Jessica's tone. "He's a little shorter than me."

Ben was only a little taller than me. Angela was almost a foot taller than I was.

"He's a great guy," said Angela, and she too got a bit of a dreamy look in her eyes, but it was an entirely different sort than Jessica's. It made me feel wobbly and like I did when I thought about Edward's smile or the way he had made me feel safe.

"I'm happy for you," I said, adding, "the both of you."

"What about you and Edward?" asked Jessica.

"Jess," said Angela, as reproachfully as Angela ever got, which as to say almost not at all reproachful.

"Are you two dating?" she asked.

"Jess," I said. "I haven't seen him since the day he agreed to go to the dance with me. Nothing new has happened since the last time we talked about him. What makes you think we are dating?"

"I'm just asking," said Jessica. "You two haven't made, say plans for prom yet?"

I started at her like she had just started speaking in tongues, "What are you talking about?"

"Nothing," said Jessica, sounding like she had given too much away.

"What?" I asked.

Jessica and Angela exchanged a look.

"She asked," said Angela.

"You tell her," said Jessica.

"Tell me what?" I asked.

Angela sighed, "Tyler said that he was taking you to Prom."

"He what?!" I cried. Jessica managed to stay in our lane.

"I told you it wasn't true," said Angela.

"Well, of course it wasn't true," said Jessica. "She is going to the Spring Formal with Edward Frickin' Cullen! No one in their right mind thinks that she will turn around and go to Prom with Tyler after that."

"Wait," I stammered, "is that why Lauren doesn't like me?"

"Wow," said Jessica. "I guess we don't need to explain it to her."

"I wish someone would explain it to her," I sighed bitterly. "I am not going to Prom with Tyler. I never said I would got to Prom period. I have no interest in Tyler. If she wants him, she can have it."

"Mad much?" asked Jessica.

"I don't like liars," I said. "Especially when those lies get me treated poorly by people who believe them. It's not fair."

Angela was sitting in the back. She put a hand on my shoulder.

"You're angry," she pointed out, simply.

I sighed. She was right. And it wasn't helping anything.

"I'll talk to Lauren tomorrow," I said.

"I wouldn't do that," said Jessica. "That is just going to make things worse."

I sighed again, not sure what to do.

"You'll figure something out," said Angela. "It'll be okay."

I squeezed her hand, thankful.

As we pulled out of the city limits, and felt myself swell. I was glad to be out of town with my friends. I just hoped the distractions could remain throughout the night.


	9. Chapter 9: Port Angeles

Dress shopping proved to be a bit harder than I thought, and yet easier too. Angela had a very limited selection with how tall she was, unless she wanted something so short it bordered on indecent. Jess had to pull every dress she didn't immediately hate from the racks, but at least she got it wheedled down fairly well before she actually started trying them on. For me, it just took a lot of looking. Finally, after over an hour of looking, I found it. It was a full length, nearly backless, royal blue dress. It didn't look like much on the rack, but when I put it on, it draped perfectly, loose where it should be loose and fitted where it should be tight. It came down to almost the small of my back and had several thin straps to keep it from being a true halter style dress and helped keep everything where it needed to be. It had built in support so I wouldn't need a bra and wasn't so long that I would easily trip. I wasn't sure about the bare arms, but I figured there might be a nice wrap I could get with it. And, because it was so simple, it was less than I was willing to pay before it had been marked down. I thought I had lucked out, until I stepped out of the dressing room.

Angela was looking at two dresses hung on a wheeling rack, trying to pick between them. Jess was sitting facing me, comparing a different shoe on each foot while judging the affect each of her remaining dresses would have against each. She saw me first as I stepped out, and she gasped, catching Angela's attention. They both just sort of stared at me, far longer than it took for me to be self-conscious.

"What?" I asked, looking down for stains or tears I might have missed.

Jess just stood, and wobbled her precarious way on two different sized heels over to me, and slowly pulled my hair back and held it behind my head.

"Lauren is going to absolutely hate you," she said.

"You look amazing, Bella," said Angela.

I blushed and was ready to be out of the dress. I stepped back in and took it off. I left the dress with Angela and Jessica and ran to the restroom to take off the makeup. On the way back, I found where they kept the wraps and found a beaded black shawl that would work and would match my shoes well enough.

After sitting and helping the others decide for another half hour, I was starting to feel restless. I had given them my opinions and helped them make the best decision I could, and while Angela had moved on to shoes and was thinking about getting some cheap jewelry, Jessica hadn't even narrowed it down to two dresses, and I was starting to become impatient.

"Hey," I asked suddenly, impulsively, "do you two know if there is a bookstore in town?"

I had meant to get to a bookstore on Saturday, but if I could bring back a few books, then at least I would have another excuse to cancel my Saturday trip. Also, while I was thinking about it, maybe I could pick up a book or two on the supernatural.

Angela wasn't sure, but Jessica at least seemed eager to have me elsewhere. I could tell she was getting to the point where more input of any kind was going to be a hindrance rather than a help. We arranged to meet later for food, so I took the hastily conveyed directions, paid, and put my clothes in the car and returned the keys to Jessica.

"Don't get lost," said Jess with a laugh, and I headed out.

I did get lost. Twice. It didn't help that Jess had two street names swapped and that there was a third between them. I had crossed back and forth between two streets several times when I finally spotted a group of four men walking down the street.

"Excuse me," I said loudly, "I'm lost. Could you help me?"

They walked over and I didn't pay them much mind. I could smell alcohol on them and they were overly friendly, but they pointed me in the right direction, amidst the many "sugars" and "honeys".

It was starting to get dark by the time I found it, and when I did, it turned out to be a new age shop with crystals in the windows on mirrors and incense burning on the counters that just happened to also carry books. They wouldn't have anything I was looking for here. Still, I looked around for a minute, just to be polite, but when I was right and they didn't have anything I was interested in, I headed back out.

Night was falling in earnest now, and the street lights started winking on. Something about this situation was making feel a bit uneasy, and I wasn't sure why until I glanced over my shoulder and saw him. Someone was following me.

There was nothing remarkable about the guy at first that I could see. He was maybe ten years older than me, but he was noticeably taller and yet slowed his pace to match mine. He was doing everything he could not to look at me, but was constantly sweeping his eyes everywhere else, as though looking to make sure no one else was watching me, or him. I was about to get particularly scared, when a second man joined him, and they started walking together, looking at the ground. They looked familiar, but I could really place them.

I was still feeling nervous, so I tried to take a more direct route back to where the girls would be meeting me for dinner. I found a cross street and started down in. I was more than half way down it when I realized something was wrong. There wasn't anyone here. It was an industrial space, with solid walls and only a few doors to speak of, none of which looked to be public access. The lights were few and far between, and there wasn't any traffic in sight. And, the two men were still following me.

I couldn't run. I knew that was a stupid idea. I wouldn't get more than five steps before I would fall. I had my small purse with me, but it held only money and a few necessity and wouldn't make for a very good weapon, only maybe a distraction. Then, I remembered the mace. I reached into my bag, the men starting to close the distance with me. When there were four strides away, I turned on a heel, bobbled my step, but still came up strong, planted my feet and pointed the mace at them.

"Whoa!" one said. "Hey!"

"Back off," I said, trying not to let my voice tremble.

"We weren't doing nothing," the other said. I didn't budge.

"Back off," I said again, a little louder.

I wasn't sure where the other one came from. Suddenly a strong hand grabbed my wrist and wrenched it to one side. It hurt, a lot, and the mace went flying out of my slack fingers. I was about to scream, but another hand clamped over my mouth from a different angle. I couldn't see very well, but I suddenly recognized the smell. It was the same drunk men, the four from before. Hands grabbed me, pulling me back, off of the street, into an alley between two buildings. Their hands were rough and cloying, unconcerned with anything save my escape. I went slack, hoping my dead weight would break their hold or deter them, but all four took me up and carried me with easy.

I tried to scream. I tried to pull away. All I could see were flashes of the night sky and bits of buildings as I struggled uselessly. They were too strong. There was no way I could escape, my mind a white fog of blank terror. I knew what could be coming. I couldn't think of it, wouldn't think of it. I was set more or less upright again, my back pressed to the front of one of them, who clutched me about the waist, one of his fingers toying with the hem of my jeans, his lips finding my ear.

"Such a sweet thing," he whispered. "So pretty…"

One each had each of my arms, laughing and goading the final one on. He came up close to me, grabbing a handful of my hair, jerking me face up towards him. I looked resolutely away. But then, I realized that my mouth was free. I only got out half a second of scream before his free hand shoved its way over my face, practically suffocating me. I tried to wrestle my mouth away, but his arm was stronger than my whole neck. His second hand pulled down the neck of my sweater, loose as it was. His fingers worried down towards the softness of my flesh, and my tears began to come in sheer anger and frustration.

And then, something weird happened with his arm. His hand relaxed and flopped a little, twisting in an odd angle out of my shirt. And he started screaming. I couldn't understand why, until I felt his hand brush my leg on the way down, his other still on my face. He let go and pulled back, clutching the tangled mass of flesh about his shoulder where his arm had once been. He was suddenly flung into the air, cracking his head against the wall of the opposite building, leaving a dark smear nearly two stories up on the wall. He landed with a sodden crunch and didn't move.

The three others were still holding me, but they were not doing so harshly anymore. They were at a loss as what to do.

"Lonnie?" one of them asked, confused.

Hands slipped off my arm. One of the men fell face first onto alley in front of me, his feet seemingly pulled out from under them. He was suddenly dragged, so quickly he couldn't work himself into a scream before he was out of sight, his scrabbling hands and whimpering suddenly silenced by a harsh gurgling sound.

"This isn't happening," the last one who had my other arm said. "This isn't hap-."

He was suddenly pulled upward, into the black of night, his voice quieting as soon as he was out of sight.

The last one, behind me, wheeled me around to face me.

"I'm sorry," he said. "Oh god, I'm sorry. Make it stop! You have to make it stop! I don't want to d-"

A force spun me. It did so perfectly, pulling him away from me and drawing me with the pulls, so that his passing didn't crash into my shoulder. I continued the turn until I was once again facing the wall that had been at his back, away from the alley at large. I heard him choking, him trying to gasp for air, and then, a nasal sound, the sound of murmured haste that began to draw itself out with every breath, as though a great animal was being sated.

I turned slowly. The man was pressed against the far wall, and I couldn't see much of him. All but the upper right half of his face was obscured by a figure between me and him, bending him and bending over him. His only visible eye was wide, unseeing, unblinking, pulled and affixed in an expression of fear, the last expression his face would ever wear.

My eyes lingered on the figure between us, rising and falling by inches, as though breathing heavily, rocking slightly with every pull. I somehow knew that figure. I had never seen it in that way, from that perspective, but I knew it. I would know it anywhere.

"Edward," I whispered.

He turned to face me. It was him. His face was the same as I had seen it last, still as beautiful as ever. The differences were subtle. His canines were pointed, gleaming in the faint light enough to be seen. He was completely unmarked by bloody slaver, save for the bit about his lips and teeth. Upon his face were strange black rivulets of what reminded me of mascara laden tear tracks, accept that the black flecks were too large, and some had a uniform curved edge. They were the pieces of contacts, I understand, as my eyes met his, scarlet and giving off a burnished glow in the low light. They were the same eyes I had seen at my window nearly a week before.

"Edward," I said again, my voice weak.

He was across the alley in an instant, my body taking up with the motion, my back suddenly pressed against the far wall. It didn't hurt, but I could no longer see his face, so close was he to me. His body so close to mine, I couldn't help but notice the coolness of him, the entire lack of warmth.

"Don't run," he said, his voice deeper than it had been, slightly tremulous. "Or run. If you run, I will chase you. I will hunt you. I will know what to do. Prey. Kill."

His voice went almost erotic, "Drink."

For a long moment, I didn't move. I was still. I had been afraid, but I remembered. I was in his arms. I had been safe here. I could be safe here again. Slowly, my fear left me, completely. Slowly, not wanting to startle him, I drew up my hand. One of his was pressed against the wall beside my hip, the other against the wall next to my head. I let my hand come up, only barely brushing him, until its fingertips touched his chin. His whole body twitched, all except his face, which remained still. I continue, sliding back, rimming the edge of his jaw, his skin smooth and cool, with just the barest hint of give, just like mine. Cold and dark as he was, in this way, we were still the same.

My hand cupped his face. With the slightest bit of pressure, more a question than an insistence, I guided him back a bit until I could see his face, and he could see mine. My second hand came up too, finding the other side of his face as well. His eyes were still burgundy in the low light, but the glow was gone from them. His teeth were as they were before, if still reddened in places. I let him see my face too, relaxed and peaceful.

He was here. He was actually here. I had missed him more than I wanted to admit to myself. And he had come, when I was in pain, in danger, when I needed him the most. He had come and he had saved me.

"Thank you," I whispered.

He looked as though I had just slapped him.

"What?" he asked.

"Thank you," I said again, in equal fervor. "I don't want to think what would have happened if you hadn't come along."

Pain infused his face. He looked as though he was tied at the stake and was trying not to let the pain and fear show as the flames began to lick up him.

"It's okay," I whispered. I wanted to draw him to me, to hold him, tall and large as he was to me, but I somehow knew he would not allow it.

He let out a bitter laugh, the pain in him hidden away.

"You are trying to console me?" he said. "Weren't you watching?"

"Yes," I said simply.

"And?" he bite out harshly.

"And what?" I asked patiently.

"Nothing to say?" he asked.

"What would you like me to say?" I asked, as calm as he was agitated.

"The truth!" he hissed. It didn't sound wholly human.

I looked at the ground. Two bodies were laid there. I felt a little nauseated.

"You probably shouldn't have killed them," I said calmly.

He barked another laugh, "They deserved that and more. If I wasn't worried for your safety and had time, they would have lasted days and would have been begging for death before it was over. They would have paid in full for what they had done to you."

"They didn't deserve to die," I said, but it was a hard pill to swallow. I took a deep breath, remembering who I was.

"Even if they…" I trailed off, unable to say it. "Even if they had done what they intended to do, they wouldn't have deserved death. Consequences, sure, but not death."

He sneered at me, "You would forgive rapist and murders? That is what they were!"

I looked gently at his face.

"Is that why you hate them?" I asked. "Because they were killers, like you?"

He looked as though the flames were back, and as though he couldn't hold back anymore.

"I-" he tried, but could not get the words out. "I-"

"You are," I said, "a worthwhile person, still."

He looked as though he had been shot, while being burned alive.

"But you shouldn't kill people," I said. "You can't unkill these, but you really shouldn't kill anyone else."

His expression was hard and pained, and suddenly, in a flash, he was gone.

The bodies were gone too. I had no idea where he had gone. I waited minutes and he didn't return. I turned and walked out of the alley, pulling the neck of my sweater back in place and avoiding blood on my shoes. I was unsure where to go, what direction to turn, when a silver Volvo pulled up in front of me. The door opened.

"You don't have-"

Before he could say more, I was in and pulling the door shut.

"-get in," he said. The door thunked.

"I mean it," he said. "If you don't want to-"

"I'm here," I said. "Honestly, I don't even know where I am going from here. But I am here. We need to talk."

He nodded, turning his once again dark eyes and clean face back to the road.

"Yes," he intoned, "we do."

We pulled out into the street and away.

"Are you alright?" he asked. He was driving fairly fast, but his turns were so smooth and perfectly timed that we moved through traffic perfectly. I felt completely comfortable.

"I'm fine," I said.

"You're…fine?" he asked, his words saturated with suspicion.

"Yes," I said. He looked out through the windshield.

"After everything that you have been through, everything that you… witnessed, how can you possibly be calm?" he asked dubiously.

"I feel safe with you," I said honestly.

For a moment, I thought he might kick me out of the car. His jaw tight, he pulled around and into the restaurant where I was supposed to be meeting Jessica and Angela. They were just walking out, and they didn't look very happy. Neither of them seemed to notice the silver Volvo. We parked and I got out.

"Ang," I called. "Jess."

They turned, and both looked relieved.

"Where were you?" Jess admonished. "We had to eat without you! Why-?"

Edward stepped up beside me.

"Angela," he said politely. "Jessica. My apologies for keeping Bella away. She was lost on her way back to you when I spotted her from the road. I got her back to you directly."

I tried to look appropriately contrite. I was just glad he was back beside me.

"That's alright," said Jessica, sounding a little far away. "We're just glad you're okay."

"You still need to eat?" Edward asked me.

"I'm fine," I said again.

He glanced at my friends then back to me, then smiled at me. A second later, I was surprised I wasn't looking up at him from the sidewalk. How did he do that?!

"Come to dinner with me," he said.

I couldn't remember how to... words.

"Sure," I said, the word as wobbly as I felt.

"I would be happy to give you a ride home afterward," he continued, expanding his words to include my friends too, as though seeking their approval.

"Go!" Jess nearly commanded. "Oh, your… bag."

"Right," I said. We walked over to her car and I got my shopping bag out of her backseat. While Jess was closer to me than Edward, she whispered, "Call me the second you get home!"

I managed to catch Edward rolling his eyes as I said my goodbyes to them.

"Be safe," Angela added, and they got in and drove away.

A moment later, I turned back to him.

"You don't have to-" I began, but he held up a hand.

"It would be my privilege," he said smoothly. He wasn't quite as charming as he had been in front of the girls, but he was at least as companionable as he had been… last Thursday? That seemed like ages ago!

We got in the car.

"Where do you like?" he asked.

I shrugged, "I have never eaten here before."

He nodded and pulled into a small Italian place not too far from where Jess had suggested. We were walking up to the door when I caught my shoe on the curb. I was about to fall when my hand caught something. I looked up to find it was his arm. He had managed to loop it right where my hand was flung and caught me, or at least allowed me to catch myself.

"Thanks," I said as I righted myself. We kept walking and I really didn't feel the need to remove my hand from his arm, and he didn't seem to feel the need to drop his either.

Walking inside, the hostess opened her mouth to greet us, but seemed to forget how to move her jaw. I glanced aside as could see why. Edward was being his charismatic self again.

"Table for two," he said.

"Of course," she said breathily. "This way."

I caught a slightly pensive look on Edwards face as we walked. She led us to a very nice table in the center of the small restaurant. He paused, and I felt his arm stiffen ever so slightly under my hand. He glanced minisculely over at me, then put his sole attention upon her.

"Something a little more private," he said, commanded really, and I caught the tone in his voice, one that I had heard once before.

"Yes," she said, a little flatly, before leading us over to the furthest corner of the restaurant to a booth. I slid into one side, and him the other, coming to a comfortable ninety degrees from one another. I would have been comfortable sitting closer, but I got the impression he did not.

"Anything to drink?" she asked, sounding much as she had before.

I wasn't sure, waiting for Edward to answer, but he waited for me. When I thought about it, I had never seen him eat or drink anything at all. I looked at the drink menu.

"I'll have a coke," I said, unsure.

"For me as well," he said. She smiled and headed away from us.

"That was a neat little trick," I said, not sure where else to start.

His focus sharpened on me, "Trick?"

"You did it before," I said, "with Mrs. Cope."

He stared at me.

"I really should get used to that," he said. "You are so perceptive."

I chuckled, "Not so much. You're just really obvious."

"Not to most people," he said.

I shrugged, "Most people don't pay very good attention."

"You do," he said.

My lips quirked, "You do too."

He gave me the crooked smile that never failed to make my heart race.

"I am a bit biased when it comes to you, though," he said.

I shook my head, "Because I'm so interesting?"

I didn't bother to add the air quotes. My tone did that well enough on its own.

"Something like that," he said.

I pulled the utensils out of their napkin and folded the napkin carefully on my lap, "I'm sorry."

"For what?" he almost demanded, sounding very displeased.

"I shouldn't have put myself in danger like that," I said. "I should have been paying more attention. I should have gone back way earlier. I shouldn't have-"

"Stop," he said flatly but as though he had trouble getting the single word out.

I looked over at him. His face had become an emotionless mask, one that thrilled me as much as made me wary. He stopped breathing until I looked away and waited for him to speak again.

"Do not blame yourself," he said. "I have…. I understand the minds of such men. No action you committed was responsible for what they did. It was their choice, and theirs alone."

The waiter appeared, with our drinks. She gave Edward a very come-hither smile. I wasn't sure if I should roll my eyes or nod in understanding.

"Have we decided or would you like more time?" she asked. Again, Edward deferred to me. I opened the menu, turned to the entrees, and chose the first one.

"For you, sir?" she asked, sounding so suggestive, I wanted to clear my throat, or maybe accidentally throw my menu at her face. By accident.

"Nothing for me," said Edward, completely unfazed. He gathered the menus and handed them to her without a second look at her. She looked rather disappointed and walked away. I tried not to start beaming.

"You understand," he asked, determinedly, "it wasn't your fault?"

I shrugged, "If I hadn't been so stupid-"

"Nothing you did was stupid!" he all but exclaimed.

I gave him a look, and he became more subdued.

"If I had acted with more consideration," I said, "I wouldn't have been in that situation to begin with."

He nodded, "Perhaps, but only by being in that situation could you have known to avoid it. It isn't fair that you should expect yourself to know not to make mistakes before you make them. No one is capable of that sort of forethought."

I didn't say anything for a moment. He slid the drink that was set close to me a bit closer.

"You should drink something," he said.

"Why?" I asked, pulling the paper off of my straw.

He shook his head in mild disbelief.

"How are you so calm?" he asked. "You did just have a fairly traumatic experience."

I shrugged and sipped, "Maybe."

"Maybe?" he asked, extremely dubious.

"I would have gotten over it," I said. "I am not sure how long it would have taken the effects to fade completely, but while I felt responsible for my actions, I wasn't responsible for theirs."

He blinked at me.

"Are you suggesting that you weren't just taking responsibility for what they did a few minutes ago."

"I wasn't," I said. "It wasn't my fault that they decided to do what they did. But I live in a world where people do stupid and hurtful things. While it isn't my responsibility to take the blame for them, I can still avoid situations that are likely to get me hurt."

He nodded, soberly.

"When do you want me to leave?" he asked.

I looked confused, "You're my ride."

He actually laughed, but it seemed like it was forced out of him.

"No," he said, seriousness returning. "I mean, when do you want me to leave Forks?"

I stared at him, "I don't."

His eyes narrowed.

"After what you have seen tonight," he said slowly, "you do not want me to leave?"

"No, I don't," I said simply.

"Why?" he asked.

I shrugged, "Because you have done nothing that demands your exile."

He laughed bitterly.

"You saw what I did," he said. "You saw… who I am, what I am. Do you not see?"

"See what?" I asked.

"That when I said that I am the worst person you know," he spat, "I was not exaggerating!"

I took a deep breath, fuller than most, letting it out slowly.

"Am I dead?" I asked him.

He looked unsure, "Of course not."

"Then I beg to differ," I said.

"Do not do that," he said. "Do not undermine my actions."

"I'm not," I said, quickly. "I'm really not. Understand this; I have no interest in having murders in my life. Like, that is pretty high on the list of things I don't want."

"Then when should I leave?" he asked again.

"Stop that!" I said, my face getting hot. "I am not saying that you need to leave, so cut it out. Having any sort of healthy relationship with someone who murders people isn't possible. It doesn't have to do with the person's self worth or the fact that they are killing people. It has to do with the fact that they believe that something so hurtful is the only accept course of action to take. If fundamentally, they think that doing something that wrong is the best decision they can make, the only choice they have, than such flawed behavior will dominate their entire existence. People have choices. They aren't easy or often even good, but there is always another way. We just need to find it."

He looked at me, hard.

"What exactly are you suggesting?" he asked.

"Nothing," I said. "I am suggesting nothing. But, I am asking, is there a way for you to… live, to be, without being a murderer?"

He locked down. He looked at the table, a hurt and slightly angry expression on his face.

"It isn't that-" he started, but I cut him off.

"No," I said. "That is an excuse, not an answer. Is there a way? Yes or no?"

He was quiet a long moment.

"Yes," he finally said, but did so as though it cost him something by saying it.

"I feel a but coming on," I said. He looked confused.

"But…" I supplied.

"But…" he continued, "I am not sure if I am… good enough, strong enough to do it."

I looked at him, his eyes downcast, his face sullen. My eyes never leaving his, I scooted around the booth towards him. The moment he began to grow rigid with discomfort, I stopped. Reaching out, I took his hand. Lifting it with one of mine, I set it in my other, cupping them with his between.

"We are all capable of many things," I said. "Some great, some not so good. But you'll never know what you are capable of if you are too afraid to try."

His hand was cool under mine and, somehow, very soothing to me. It wasn't uncomfortably cold or anything, just room temperature, like a cooling compress.

"You shouldn't do that," he said, scooting a bit away from me, but not pulling his hand away.

"Do what?" I asked.

"Get close to me," he said.

I scooted back from him too, not dropping his hand, a smile on my face.

"That isn't what I mean," he said irritable.

My smile bloomed, "I know."

"How much did you…" he started, then looked away. "What did you see tonight?"

I looked at him, wondering what answers he wished, "Most of it, I guess."

"You know…" he said. "I am sure you know that… that I…."

"You killed them," I nodded.

"I don't understand you," he said. "How is this even possible? Are you not repulsed by me? Why are you not running and screaming in terror?"

I shrugged, trying to keep the smile off of my face.

"Why do you keep doing that?" he demanded.

"Edward," I gentled. "You can't undo what you have done. Answer me this; do you want to keep killing people?"

He clenched his eyes shut. "No. Yes? I don't know…"

I can't help but grin, "You sort of make it a point not to think too hard about yourself."

He looked up, his face still harsh. Then, finally, his expression cracked, and he smiled ruefully.

"Touché," he said.

The waiter stepped around a partition, a tray with only my plate on it, looking lonely and slightly bereft. As soon as she saw how close we were sitting, she came up short. Without thinking, I slid back from him, to where I was sitting before. His hand lingered on my nearest, refusing to let it go until I needed it to receive my plate. Despite her interruption, she still gave Edward a meaningful look, dismissing me all together. But when I looked back to Edward, he only had eyes for me. I felt butterflies and sort of bubbly.

"Are you sure there isn't anything I can get you?" she asked, just as meaningful.

"No, thank you," he said a little dismissively, not dropping his attention from me. I took another sip of my coke, realized that it was empty from having taken regular sips throughout our conversation. I turned to indicate my glass to our waiter, but she was already walking away and was gone before I could tell she wasn't paying enough attention to notice.

Edward deftly swapped glasses with me, letting me retrieve my straw and put it into his untouched beverage.

"Do you drink?" I asked.

"Yes," he said easily.

"Usual beverages?" I asked carefully, drinking more soda.

He gave me a long look.

"Not usually," he said. "I can, thought it is unappealing and not particularly beneficial."

I smiled, "Cool."

He just stared at me as I began eating.

"Same for food?" I asked after a solid minute without speaking.

"Yes," he said, "only more so."

I smiled, "This is actually good, by the way."

"What do you like about it?" he asked, folding his hand under his chin.

I considered the food in my mouth, deconstructing it as I swallowed.

"It is creamy," I said, "but not overly heavy. Not too fatty. The mushrooms are cooked correctly, to the point that they are soft but not mushy. That is really hard to do with ravioli. The fact that they used a wheat pasta that doesn't overpower the dish is tough. Wheat pastas can be rather bitter. The filling seasoning is a tad salty, but that cuts the cream and the wheat really well. It keeps everything balanced. Nothing overdone, nothing in excess. Good."

"Balance is important," he said with gravity, his eyes still heavy on me. I had to admit, I was really starting to like them there.

"I wish…" he began, slowly.

"You wish?" I asked after swallowing.

He was quiet another beat longer, but then his words came out, in a rush.

"I wish that I could understand, could see the world as you do," he said. "It isn't that I don't comprehend what you believe; it is simply that I don't understand how you could draw those conclusions, how it is so easy for you to have faith in what you choose to trust about the world. If I did not know you as I do, I would have doubts about your sanity. How is it possible for someone, as good and forthright and honest and fair and true as you are, to simply forgive murder? I believe that if I were to truly walk away from my past, as you suggest it is so easy to do, I have a hard time believing that you could ever truly forgive me."

"I could," I said. "I can't promise it would be easy, but I could."

"Your ability is not what I have any doubts about," he clarified. "It is my experience that makes me doubt. With everything that I know about people and how the world works, you shouldn't be here. I shouldn't be here. I should have walked away from you that first day and never come back."

I took a moment to chew and swallow and breathe.

"If you had," I said, "I would likely be dead, twice over. Maybe three times."

He flinched, a look of pain crossing his face.

"I need no reminding," he said. "However, in my presence, you have come just as close to death twice over as well, nearly three times."

I considered, "How close are we talking?"

"What?" he asked, as though I had just asked him something truly uncouth.

"Well," I said, "considering I risk death to some degree every time I get into a car, every time I pick up a knife, every time I walk outside, every time I get out of bed, every time I go to sleep, every time I make any decision at all, I was just wondering how much risk we were talking here."

He stared at me, as though he was doubting my sanity again.

"Too much," he said. "You should never have to be concerned with whether or not you might… die in order to socialize with me."

I felt something rip through my chest.

"What is it?" he asked.

It hurt more than I would have thought possible, then was over. I couldn't put my finger on exactly why.

"It's nothing," I said, as the realization came to me, but I wasn't going to admit just how much I wished we were doing more here than simply socializing.

After a pause, I added, "It isn't your decision."

He glared at me, "It isn't my decision whether or not I kill you?"

I shrugged, "No, that is entirely your decision. I mean, given what I have seen tonight, I don't think I could even try to stop you if you decided to. But I get to choose where I sit and when I speak and with whom I decide to have relationships with. You get to make your own choices too. If you want to leave, that is well within your rights. So, as long as you are truly taking responsibility for your own actions, working towards being the better person I know you can be, and are here, I will be here too."

I kept eating. He kept watching, in silence. Finally, he said, "So, in theory, so long as I am making the decision not to kill, and taking care to be responsible and find the better choice, we can have a relationship."

I felt my face heat up, "I… That's not… When I say relationship…"

I sipped soda. He smiled at me. I had to look away.

"What I mean to say," he spoke gently, "is that you and I will be… together."

There was something in the way he said it, a weight and meaning that made me want to quiver and crow with happiness and gibber in corner, overwhelmed by everything that single word entailed.

"Yes," I whispered, feeling the weight in my word as well. He seemed to sit straighter, to stretch and swell at my word.

"If you are to make that decision," he said, "you need to know it all."

"In theory?" I asked.

He grinned, "In theory."

The waiter started walking our way.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

I looked down to see that my plate was clean.

"Yes," I said briefly.

"Can I get you anything else?" she asked Edward.

His eyes never even wavered, "Just the check."

She pulled a folded booklet from her apron. He pulled fifty from his wallet, I was pretty sure that our two drinks and my plate were probably about half of that, even with a decent tip.

"No change," he said and stood. I stood as well.

"Shall we?" he said, offering an arm. I took it and we walked out into the night.


	10. Chapter 10: Theory

Edward opened the car door for me, continuing to offer his arm in support, which I was surprised to see how much easier it made slipping into the seat. I settled myself as he crossed over to his side of the car, getting in and finding the key slot with an accuracy and grace that was equally enviable and attractive. He pulled smoothly into traffic and the thrum of the engine settled into me as we began driving back to Forks.

"Theoretically," he said into the comfortable night and silence of the car, "could you care for a monster?"

I couldn't hide my smile.

"Well," I said, matching his tone but also sounding as though I were playfully humoring him, "in theory, I suppose it is safe to say that I already do."

As I said it, I realized just how true it was.

"You matter to me, Edward," I said, all playfulness gone from my voice. "I support you and I want you to be happy."

The expression on his face jumped from emotion to emotion; moved, skeptical, happy, worried, grateful, sad, disbelieving. Lonely.

"You might not say that," he said solemnly, "if you knew everything there was to know about me."

He considered, "Let's say, again, in theory, that I already do."

He sucked air through his clenched teeth, "Even if you could, I would find it hard to believe that you could so easily forgive-"

"-a vampire?" I asked.

Edward thrashed in his seat. The car's speed bobbled, and we jerked left and right on the road. For all of that, we still stayed within the lines of our lane. Even if there had been more cars on the road, we would have remained safe.

"How could you possibly-?" he all but hissed, and then became silent.

"Who?" he asked, his tone so hostile, I instantly found myself fearing for Jacob's safety.

"No," I said.

He looked at me, and his glare was so intense, I could almost see the red behind his contacts.

"Who!?" he demanded, and I felt myself flinch involuntarily. He saw my motion and became still and reflective. He looked back towards the road, visibly trying to relax.

"No," I said. "Edward, I trust you, but trusting you does not mean giving you everything you want. You have provided me with no evidence at all that giving you that information would be good for anyone involved. You don't need more of an excuse to hurt anyone more than you already-"

"You're right," he said, his tone only slightly biting.

I shut up.

"I didn't react…" he said, taking a deep breath, "with thought, only instinct. My instincts aren't very trustworthy right now. I am sorry."

I took a deep breath too, "So, you really are… a…."

"Damned, undead creature of the night?" he asked, a cynical little smile on his lips. "Yes."

Saying that cost him something. I could see it. It was painful for him to be so bold, so open and honest, but I could also see something I might have called relief.

"How old are you?" I asked.

His cynical smile became a bit more genuine, "We are quickly passing out of the theoretical."

I searched his face.

"You're still afraid," I commented. "You think that the more I know about you, the more likely it would be that I will ask you to leave."

He nodded, silently.

I reached for his hand. He jerked back, and I froze. He looked almost ashamed of his reaction, and replaced his hand on the wheel. I continued forward, and this time, he did not pull away. I took his hand in mine.

"Edward," I said, hoping I sounded more sure than I felt, "would you be satisfied with only a portion of me?"

He looked at me, not knowing where I was going with this.

"Would you be okay with only getting to know me in part?" I asked.

He sighed.

"I think I would go completely insane," he said lackadaisically.

"I want to know you," I said, trying not to sound eager. "I want to know it all, good and bad. I want there to be nothing but fearless honesty between us."

He considered, "Tell me a truth."

I came up short, "I'm sorry?"

He looked over at me.

"I want to know you as well," he said. "I would like to know a truth about you, something you do not normally reveal to many people. I suppose the request is a bit selfish, but I care more about hearing what you have to say than I do about being polite."

I thought about his request.

"I guess," I said slowly, "I guess I don't really fit in with my friends."

He leaned closer to me, his focus seemingly entirely on me.

"Eyes on the road! Eyes on the road!" I exclaimed, bracing myself with my right hand and leaning against my door. He rolled his eyes.

"I do not rely as heavily on my sight as you do, Bella," he complained. "I would not put you in danger."

"I…" I started, "okay. It's just… it is easy to forget what you are, sometimes…."

I don't know why, but this made him smile.

"You were saying?" he asked politely.

"Was I?" I asked, confused. "Oh! Right. My friends."

I took a deep breath and looked out at the night.

"I have never really thought of myself as a teenager, I guess," I said, trying to put my feelings into words that might actually make sense. "It's like… I haven't ever been interested in things like hair and makeup or sports and cars. Homework I like and enjoy, which made me an oddity all on its own in Phoenix. Add to that that I don't really connect well with people my own age, mostly because they find such trivial things so wholly important and neglect the things most vital to their well-being and happiness. So, I end up having more in common with people who are substantially older than me, but do not get on well with them because I lack experience, and I don't get on with kids my age because I behave so much like an adult."

I was quiet a long moment.

"I know exactly what you mean," he said, then smirked, "Granted, in my case, I believe it has everything to do with the fact that I have lived much longer than your average seventeen year old."

I paid attention to his face.

He was different at night. I could see it, if not completely explain it. It was almost like there was more substance to him, as though he was more vital, if not more animate. His skin wasn't paler, but his color was richer somehow. His beauty was no more than it had been, but it was as though an element you never would have guessed was missing had been returned. He was as he always had been, and more without having been less before.

"How old are you?" I asked.

He gave me a sort of suave yet teasing smile, "I told you; seventeen."

I found myself rolling my eyes, "And how long have you been seventeen?"

His grin turned positively gorgeous, and I found myself having to look away, lest I give some rather embarrassing vocalization of my enjoyment.

"A while," he admitted, his expression sobering, "Is it so important?"

"The number isn't," I said. I didn't need to add that knowing him was the point. He got it.

"I was born to my human life on June twentieth," he said, his voice as rich and cultured as a charismatic historian or college professor of literature, "nineteen oh one."

It took me a moment to understand that what he added at the end was the year. Even as I was expecting it, I was not able to wrap my brain around…

"A hundred and three years?" I murmured, unable to comprehend so much time.

He nodded slowly, as though afraid he would startle me if he moved too quickly.

"I was alive for seventeen years," he said, "I was born to my immortal life, if you can call it living, in September of nineteen eighteen. If I hadn't been… changed, I would have died anyway. The Spanish Influenza had already claimed the lives of my mother and father. It was a hard time, between the Great War and the devastating outbreak. Add upon that my new status as an undead creature of the night, and you might have some idea how tumultuous my early years of unlife were."

A hard edge had entered his words, and I felt as though some part of him was back there, carrying me with it. It felt grayer back there, desaturated and stark, poor and all of these things so pervasively that it seemed a given, inescapable.

"How many people have you killed?" I asked. It just slipped out. I don't know what made me ask it.

He looked as though I had just stabbed him. It was like he hadn't felt the blade go in, because it didn't make sense to him that I could, ever would…. Now, he was feeling it as the blade was drawn out, trying to understand what had happened. Pain ripped and rippled across his face, and I felt like the biggest bitch in Bitchtown.

His expression locked down into a mask, but I could still see the anger that tinged through it.

"One thousand, seven hundred and eighteen," he said. Then he reconsidered, "Pardon, one thousand, seven hundred and twenty two."

I looked at him. So many lives. It was hard to imagine. That was over half the population of Forks. Had I even ever come into contact with that many people? How many was that a year? I would have to kill more than a hundred people a year to come close to that, and I don't think I could take many people out when I was a toddler. How could I think such things so cavalierly? It was almost as though I was trying not to think about…

I saw it. I saw them. The men, those who had tried to hurt me, the men who had brought up the count four more bodies. I saw them, now, all of them, screaming, terrified, bloody and broken and ended. He had done that to them. He had killed them.

"I…" I tried to speak, but the words got stuck in my throat. "I…"

I felt the car accelerating.

"What…?" I tried, confused.

"That was a mistake," he said. "I shouldn't have told you that. I shouldn't have told you any of it."

"Edward," I tried to say, suddenly aware that we were speeding along, speeding me home. That he was speeding me away from him.

"No," he said, refusing to look at me. "This… this shouldn't have happened. I don't know what I was thinking! As though you could ever accept me!"

Something twisted in me, hard. For a second, I was afraid I might puke in his car, in front of him.

"What are you going to do?" I asked, my voice shaking.

"What I should have done in the first place," he all but snarled. "I am going to take you home and then leave you alone, get out of your life before something drastic happens!"

Something fluttered in me, feeling frantic.

"What?" I half cried. "No!"

"Yes!" he spat back. "I don't want you to get hurt, Bella!"

"No!" I insisted, feeling my face heat up. "I don't care. I want you."

He glared at me, and for the first time, that first day, I thought he might kill me again.

"Never say that," he said, voice quiet and deadly cold.

It was my turn to feel stabbed.

My throat closed, making a single sound that didn't resemble gagging impossible. I tried to protest, to scream, to make any sound at all, but then, I didn't want to make any sound as the hurt finally fought its way past my limits. I didn't, I couldn't vocalize anything, for fear of giving away just how much his words pained me.

"Are you crying?" he all but whispered, just audible over the engine's thrum.

I said nothing and turned my falling tears away from him.

"No," he said, a little louder but as though he spoke to himself, almost as though he was trying to convince himself. "I didn't want this."

I reached for the door handle.

"Bella!" he hissed in denial, his fingers hitting the door lock just in time. I managed to pull the lock and hold it as I pulled the door handle.

"Bella!" he roared, and I heard the ratcheting of the emergency brake as I shoved with my whole body, hoisting the door open and launching myself from the car in one fluid motion.

I don't know what happened. I lost myself in the flight, seeing only a wash of headlights and the spinning of stars about me as I fell, for a moment as though gravity had no hold on me. I heard the squealing of tires, but they were so far away, seemingly slowed to a degree I could not completely register the sound. I hung in the air, as though stretching out the moment before I knew the impact and the pain and the damage would come. It would be hard, but not nearly as hard as staying in that car would have been.

The landing never came. At all.

I couldn't see very well. My vision was mostly obscured in the darkness, but I could see the car. It was small in its distance, tilted while half off the road, the internal light on, the headlights shining up into the trees below. Beyond the trees, I could see the waters of Lake Sutherland, but the angle was all wrong. The ground seemed so far away. The car was still upon it, but I could see the open door and the roof, both the hood and trunk. It was like a toy, something I might reach out and grab. Or, reach down.

His arms were seemingly loosely about my waist, but though his grip seemed light, it supported my entire weight, for nothing else bore me in the open air but his hands.

My back was to his front as he held me, my feet brushing and bumping almost lazily against his shins. My hands fell at my sides, and I had a deep desire to wrap them about his at my middle, but I denied the feeling. His head was beside mine, just above and to one side, and I could feel his coolness, just noticeable warmer than the air about us, as though he might have gathered some warmth from inside the car.

"You can't do that," he whispered, sounding truly shaken for perhaps the first time since I had known him. I had the sudden childish desire to drag his hands away from me, though from the angle of the car, I knew that we must be high, at least five stories or so.

"The point," I said listlessly back, "was to get away from you."

That seemed to bring him back to himself.

"Let me take you home," he said. "Then you will never have to see me again."

"That," I hissed myself, "isn't what I want."

In an instant, he was no longer behind me. His hands were now loosely upon my forearms as he was in front of me, facing me, my feet settling lightly atop his.

"Which is it?" he demanded. "Do you want to be away from me or not!?"

I tried to pull my arms away, but his kept to mine with an unerring consistency, like magnet or gravity. It probably didn't hurt that he had a much longer reach than me. Finally, my frustration bubbled over.

"I want you to stop denying yourself!" I cried loudly into the night.

He stilled quite a bit then.

"You are afraid," I said harshly. "Welcome to the real world! We're all scared. I am terrified because despite everything that has happened, I am still here, standing beside an honest to god vampire, who murdered four men before my very eyes tonight, and the one thing that scares me the most is that you might leave!"

I don't know when I buried my face into his chest, but he had his arms about me, and the softness of his shirt felt so crisp and cool against my hot, damp face. He smelled…. better than anything I had ever smelled in my life. It was as though every scent that could ever peak my attention, my admiration, and my attraction had been distilled into its most potent and concentrated form, and then just enough was laid into his skin that I kept wanting to forever return to make sure it was possible for any man to smell so good. And, with every inhale, I dared to wonder if he smelled as good as I remembered, and he smelled better. How had I not noticed this before?

"I don't want you to leave," I said. "It hurts to even think about the idea. And I hate it!"

My sudden cry bounced back from some unseen ridge in the dark, echoing even muffled as my voice was again him still.

"I hate that I could be so unmade by you," I confessed. "But, at the same time, I don't care. I am in awe of you and understand why it is so hard for me to think about being apart from you. It isn't like my freewill has been taken. It's as though every choice that I would ever want to make would be, as though my decision was so inevitable, it is undeniable."

At that moment, I wanted nothing so desperately as to kiss him, but something in me made me feel like it was a bad idea.

"I don't," I said quietly, "I don't know what to do. I know what I want, but I don't know what can be. I can't condone murder. I'm not perfect. And yeah, there are going to be times when I can't let go of what you have done. But, that won't be all the time. I think I might just have it in me to forgive it. I'm not going to give you an ultimatum or tell you what to do. But I can make my own decisions. So can you."

I pulled back, knowing my eyes were still wet, my face a mess.

"What do you want?" I asked.

He looked as though he had no expression. But, by the minuscule light from the car far below and the star far above, I could just make out the barely noticeable twitches of his face, as his emotions warred about the battlefield of his continence.

I don't know what tipped me off to the fact that we were descending. The loose bits of our clothing beginning to float might have been it, but it seemed perfectly ordinary to me in the moment. The subtle wind rustling by had been happening the entire time. But as the ground pressed up beneath our feet, I was unsurprised. We settled back to our usual height difference, and I felt grounded somehow, as though this small difference was somehow important, a norm to which we should always return, as sturdy and inexorable as truth.

I looked up at him, and his dark eyes shone with starlight, stark and glimmering against his skin, flawless in the pale low light.

"I want to do what's right," he said, his voice breathy and words quick, "what is good, and not just what is quick and convenient. It would be easy to leave, in so many words, but really, what would I have to gain except less risk? You say that I am afraid, and again and again, you are correct. I am a coward. I challenge any man who has had to deny himself his entire… existence, to finally reach for that which he has told himself he least deserves and most desires and to do so without a care in his heart. Braver men than I have no doubt done so and failed, and I am neither man nor mortal nor courageous. Even now, I would rather spout verbiage than state my hopes aloud. But I am afraid the cruel hand of fate would slap my outstretched hand, even if it weren't cricked into a savage claw."

His hand came forth, slow, as though reaching towards a dangerous animal, though I had no doubt who the dangerous one was here. He touched my face, carefully, and I felt myself settle against the movement, as though my natural and unconscious inclination was the lean into such a touch, but his hand rode the minimal edge, only brushing my skin with the lightest contact, leaving me shuddering and somehow deeply unsatisfied.

As his hand left my face, I felt his other hand brush past and around, under me, and I was carefully lifted and put to rest once again upon the seat in the car. He was practically impersonal in his motions and manner as he maneuvered me, and I got the impression that he was attempting to minimize his liberties with me. This idea pleased me but at the same time left me wanting more.

The door closed without a single excess of sound, as though he held fast the handle and moved the door so close to the frame that he could release the catch and let go without jarring or impact of any kind. In almost the same instance I heard him let go of my door, he was opening his. After adjusting the vents towards me and releasing the brake, he steered the still running car back onto the highway.

There was a moment of long quiet, and then I said, for lack of anything else and needing the silence to break, "So, vampires can fly. In theory, of course."

I saw the ghost of a smile grace his face.

"Some can, after a fashion," he said, his words unburdened in a way I hadn't heard before.

"There are lots of abilities that we have over humans," he went on. "We are like humans in that way, with no two who are the same, at least that I've met. We have a lot of common abilities, which vary in strength, and the trend follows that the older the vampire, the more potent those abilities become."

I smiled, "So, vampires can fly?"

He did as well, "Mostly, they can limit their own gravity. It makes it easier to jump or climb and to stay suspended. Some, like me, can suspend that gravity altogether. But what you might call flight is a rare ability indeed. I have never heard of a single vampire who has control over their motion even if they neutralize their gravitational motion."

I thought about that, "Then how did we get so high?"

He stilled, in the way he usually came up short when I touched on something he hadn't considered.

"I…" he began, "I am not sure. It is possible that in my flight from the car, I might have pushed us upwards. I don't have any other explanation for it."

I considered it.

"Maybe it is just because you're so old," I said.

He gave me a trying look, half amused and half bemused.

"No!" I protested. "I just mean that you said that it becomes more potent with age. Maybe this is just more of your potential."

He gave a brief smile, heartfelt but sad somehow.

"What is it?" I asked.

"I…" he began. "I want to encourage you to be yourself in all things, of course. But I also regret that you are starting to see me for what I am as well. I liked it better when you saw me as simply another person."

I considered that, "But you think you aren't?"

He looked at me, and somehow, I wasn't as frightened as I once had been as we drove. He was inhuman, but really, he had been since the day I met him. He was capable of so much more than anyone I had ever met, good as well as bad. If I chose to focus on the bad, I would be left with only ugliness, but that could be said of anything in life. As we sat together in a vehicle as it sped smoothly through the night, never leaving its lane, our eyes on the others, I realized that trusting him was a choice. I wasn't obligated to, and there was ample reason not to, if I decided not to. And that was when I understood; trust is something you do or don't do, and the reasons for your decision come afterwards.

"I trust you," I said. "I might not be great at it all the time, but I am here because it is my choice. I might make a different decision later, but it is my choice too."

He grinned, but it was a brittle thing.

"Can you accept that I feel the same way?" he asked. "Though you are far better at it than I?"

"Of course," I said a bit loudly, my words exasperated.

He turned back to the road as we started pulling into town.

"I have, of course," he said, "been existing much longer than you with the excuses not to trust, to not have faith in anything. It is hard to suddenly change what I have based my entire existence on for so long."

He was quiet then, and the car stopped in front of my house.

"But," he said, looking out at the night, "I never wanted to be a monster. Given that the alternative was death, it is hard for me to say that I might have been better off. But I want to be better, more than just what I am. I would rather not be the villain of my own story."

"You'd rather get the girl?" escaped my mouth before I could even think.

He gave me his half smile, sideways and with an added flash of roguishness. I was pretty sure my heart was about to beat its way out of my chest and go zinging around the interior of the car, possibly beating its way out of that too.

"Get implies that I can obtain you," he said. "But I somehow don't believe you are the sort to be taken. You're natural states seems more to be… one who is accepted when given."

I found myself nodding, lost now that I could see his face better in the light from the porch.

"Would you mind terribly if your father came out and found you sitting in a car with a boy?" he asked.

I felt suddenly annoyed with fate. That sounded like possibly the worst scenario possible, save for Charlie marching out armed. Granted, leaving this car for any reason was equally detestable to me.

"Will you be there tomorrow?" I asked. "At school?"

"Yes," he said, as though saying the words settled the matter for him, as though he was just as reassured by the idea as I was. I reached for my bag.

"What did you buy?" he asked politely.

"My dress," spilled out of my mouth.

He looked almost stunned. I know how he felt.

"We're still going?" I asked. "To the dance, I mean."

He looked a bit confounded.

"I didn't want to assume…" he said, dropping off. "If you changed your mind…."

I wanted to smack him.

"Will you stop that!?" I demanded in pique. "I make my decisions. Me!"

He was trying very hard not to smile. It made being irritated way more work. I gathered up my bag.

"Tomorrow," I said.

"Tomorrow," he agreed. I reached for the handle.

"Oh, and Bella," he said.

I froze. His voice had come from much closer than where he had been sitting a moment ago. I turned, slowly, and found him mere inches from me, his face filling up my whole world, the cool air passing out of him brushing against my skin, my… lips.

"Yes?" I said, barely a whisper, barely a word.

He searched my expression one last long moment.

"Have a good night," he said, opening my door for me.

It wasn't as though I were expecting him to kiss me. Honestly, if he had, I might have freaked out a little, worrying about it. I hadn't really considered that it was even a possibility. As it was, I didn't think it was possible for me to be more dazzled by him.

I managed to get out of the car without simply flopping out onto the pavement. I made it to the porch and fumbled with the bag and the keys and when I looked back, he was already gone.

I closed the door as quietly as I could, but still, Charlie's response was immediate.

"Bells?" he called.

"Yeah, dad," I said. "It's me."

As though it would be anyone else.

"Did you have a good time?" he asked.

My mind flashed over the events of the evening. I couldn't imagine how so much had happened in a single night, how much my life had changed in so short an amount of time. Everything seemed so different now, I wasn't even sure what tomorrow would bring.

"Yeah," I said easily, which was strange since I wasn't at ease at all.

Suddenly the phone rang.

"I've got it," I said, setting down my bag and hustling to pick up the cordless.

"Swan residence," I answered.

"Just Bella!" squealed Jessica. "Oh my god! Oh my god! Oh my god! Dish!"

I walked upstairs.

"Jess," I said placating, "calm down."

"I am calm!" she squeaked, several octaves higher than usual. "You know what? I'm not calm! Why should I be freakin' calm!? This is a freaking out moment worthy of freakoutedness!"

"Jess," I all but complained. "It isn't that big a deal."

"Not a big deal?" she said with remarkable calm, until she screamed so loud there was feedback on the line, "NOT A BIG DEAL!?"

I held the phone away from my ear until things quieted down.

"Did you see how he looked at you?!" she hissed. "Oh my god… And the way he invited you! It wasn't a demand, but it was all forceful, like he didn't want to give you a choice, like he wasn't going to let you get away. This is… big. This is bigger than big. This might be the most important bit of importance that has ever happened in the history of Forks!"

"Okay," I said, half embarrassed and half dismissive. "Either you are making fun of me or you're overreacting."

"Bella!" she cried pleasantly. "Do you have any idea how often a boy has looked at me like Edward freakin' Cullen looked at you tonight?! Never! It's like, you're on a whole different level here. One, I almost hope I'm never on! It's fun from over here, but I wouldn't want the responsibility. I mean, unless it was, like, actually Edward… I mean, I wouldn't want to have to let the guy down, ya know? I mean, he's gorgeous and all, but, like… well, he cares about you, obviously. But like, if I were in your shoes-"

"Spit it out, Jess!" I said with no heat.

"Um, like," he said. "Okay! Like, he cares about you. Anyone can see that. How do you feel? About him?"

I felt momentarily like I had once when I had tripped walking up the stairs in seventh grade. I had landed exactly wrong and somehow managed to hit myself in just the precise place so that I knocked the air out of myself and had my diaphragm seize up for a bit, making it hard for my heart to even beat.

"I…" I said, trying to get my pulse to work right and my lungs to function correctly. "What?"

"How do you feel about Edward?" she said, exaggerating every word.

I was pretty sure my brain wasn't full of cooled hot glue, but I didn't exactly have an easy way to check.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

She sighed, as though I had just asked her if I could try on every article of clothing she owned.

"What is your deal?!" she asked, her voice practically cracking in its intensity. "So, you hate him? Is that it?"

"No, I…" I said, then thought about it.

"Edward isn't like anyone I have ever met," I said. "He isn't perfect-"

"Right," she laughed. "I do have eyes."

I snorted, "I'm not talking about his face. He has flaws, and what is more, he recognizes them. He actually sees them."

"And that's important?" Jess asked. "Having flaws and seeing them?"

"Well, yeah," I said. "The only perfect people are those who can't admit that they are human. I mean, I bet you dollars to donuts that you couldn't get a single boy in our group to admit when they are wrong."

"True," she accepted. "And that is important?"

"Very," I said. "Edward knows that he isn't perfect, and wants to do something about it. He can be a total jerk sometimes, but I understand why and I know that he is trying to be more than that. He wants to be more. He wants to be good."

Something happened in me, a sort of warm building in my middle, something I had never really felt before. It was sort of like when I had crushes on fictional characters, but much more intense. At that moment, I wished Edward was there with me. I felt like I wanted to be close to him, wanted to feel him hold me again, like there was nothing else in the world but him and me. Cool though his touch was, I wanted to tingle with that cold, feel it against my skin, leeching the warmth from me.

"You've got it bad, don't you?" Jess asked.

"Oh shut up!" I protested, smiling.

"Did he kiss you yet?" she asked.

Then, suddenly something came to me that I hadn't considered. How much of Edward was like a normal boy? I mean, did he… could he… what sort of things did he want… could he even…?

"No," I said, remembering that I was answering a question. "I don't…"

"What?" she asked.

I couldn't say that I wasn't sure if my vampire suitor was even interested in the common activities of hormone laden teenagers, so I said something that was equally true.

"Edward is sort of old-fashioned," I said, as though admitting an embarrassment. In actuality, I sort of liked it.

"Oh," she said. "Bummer."

I laughed. I couldn't help it.

"You don't seem all too broken up about it," she commented.

I shook my head, "I'm not. He is sort of amazing. I don't really feel like I am missing out."

And I realized I didn't and I wasn't. Being with him was so much better than making out with some gorgeous…. Okay, it was mostly worth it.

Suddenly I could hear Jessica's mom on the other end of the phone, saying something about homework.

"Okay, yes!" Jess was saying, sounding rather annoyed. "Yes! Okay. Okay! I heard you. Mom!"

Finally she turned her attention back to me.

"I gotta go," she said. "We will continue this in trig!"

"Bye Jess," I said. We hung up. I went to go put up the phone and found that my bag was on the stairs. Dad must have moved it there from out of the hall to the entry hall on his way to his room, which he was apparently in now, what with the TV and all. I looked into the bag.

I was going to the dance, with Edward, in a matter of days. Somehow, I wasn't dreading it nearly as much as I thought I would be. It could be worse, I knew that, but for now, I was happy. There was a long road ahead of us, I could tell. I was ready to start working my way down it, with him.


	11. Chapter 11: Interrogations

The next morning was very abrupt somehow. It was as though there was a solid and concise division from the night before and that day, making the events that had transpired feel distant and dreamlike. I had a lot of trouble believing that they had really happened. It was all for the better. Towards the beginning of my time asleep, I had a nightmare where I was assaulted by four men who died bloody and with a few dismemberments. That didn't, unfortunately, prevent them from continuing their assault. But the nightmare ended without me even waking, a vision of Edward driving the nightmares away and leaving me with long dreams of him, of which all I could really remember was contentment. It made the time with him the night before seem all the more dreamlike.

I left quickly, which I had to because I spent more time than usual trying to come up with a combination of clothing that I hadn't tried before that still went together. I ended up wearing my purple leggings under my wool skirt and purple sweater that I had gotten recently. As I did so, I noted the loose necked sweater I had worn the night before on the top of my hamper and seriously considered just chucking it in the garbage. It would be a while before I would be comfortable wearing it again, or perhaps anything with a loose neck.

I was hustling because I was late, jamming a granola bar into my pocket as I all but launched myself out into the morning, coming up short as the thick fog that clouded the entire area hid even my truck from view. I started walking carefully out into it when I came up short yet again; there was a large silver mass beside my truck, roughly Volvo shaped.

I heard a door open and shut, and instantly another open. A voice from beside the passenger door spoke, "I was wondering if you would like to ride with me today."

As if that would ever be in question.

By the time he said ride, I was already walking past him and sitting. I thought I heard the ghost of a chuckle as he and I sort of closed the door together and he got into his own door.

"I wasn't sure if the night had given you a new perspective," he said as he pulled away. "Things can look differently on the other side of sleep."

I smiled and nodded, "Yeah. I was having trouble convincing myself that yesterday really happened."

His face seemed to close a bit to me. It made me want to… something! It took all my composure, and the fact that I had no idea how to do it, not to leap across the car and try to comfort him.

"The events were rather nightmarish," he commented flatly, at least for him.

I shook my head, "I would have said it was surreal and unbelievable."

He gave me a sideways look, "So, you are going to tell me you didn't have nightmares at all last night?"

I shuddered, pushing the thought of a stump where a hand used to be being dragged over my arm out of my head.

"I did," I said carefully, but then remembered him being there, driving away the nightmares, as he had driven away the bad men the night before.

"I feel like there is a but coming," he said, and my phrase on his lips was too comical. I burst out laughing, so loud in the confined car that I quickly stifled my mirth and tried to hide my embarrassed blush.

"You were saying," he said dryly.

"I did have a nightmare," I said, then realized that I couldn't exactly admit that I dreamed about him. His words came back to me, harsh and undeniable, "Never say that!"

"But it was just the one and it was over quickly," I admitted. It was true enough.

"I am sorry I frightened you," he said with a practiced nonchalance.

I looked over at him, "Believe it or not, but my every dream isn't about you."

He looked at me, and a smile seemed to quark at his lips.

"What?" I asked, trying to hold onto my anger.

"It is nothing," he said politely. "Shall we discuss your nightmare or simply pass over it?"

I suddenly didn't trust him, "What aren't you saying?"

His smile deepened, "I really do not wish to tell you. You don't trust me enough to be comfortable sharing your every emotion with me, so if I happened to find them out myself, I would rather not bring up something that would make you uncomfortable."

"I trust you," I said defiantly.

He shook his head, "You just lied, twice."

"What?" I said defensively. "When?"

"The first time," he said, raising a single finger as though indicating a tally in the air, "was when you were telling me about your nightmare. You changed your train of thought halfway through. The only reason you would censor yourself is if you didn't trust my response. And second just now, when you lied about trusting me."

We pulled up to the school.

"It is possible for me to not tell you the whole truth and still trust you," I said, trying no to sound too argumentative.

"How so?" he asked, with no heat or contest himself.

"If you do not want to hear what I have to say," I pointed out, "then me telling it to you anyway goes against your wishes."

He looked confused, "But I want to hear everything you have to say."

His words crashed over me again, so harsh, so angry.

"That isn't what you said last night," I said.

He came up short, "What did I say?"

I looked away, "I told you that I wanted you, wanted to be with you."

"I recall," he said.

"And you said that I should never say that," I concluded.

My hand was lifted from where it lay at my side. Warmth bloomed over my skin, and I turned in shock. He was holding my hand, and he was warm!

"Oh Bella," he said, gently squeezing my fingers. "That was only part of you had spoken, and that was not the part I was protesting. I told you that I didn't want you to get hurt. Before you said that you wanted me, you said that it didn't matter. That was what I was so vehemently protesting, because you do matter. You are important to me, and there is no amount of pain that you should have to endure to be in my life. Would that I could keep you from all pain, I would and gladly."

I shook my head, "You can't do that."

"Do what?" he asked, looking almost startled.

"Take my pain away," I said simply. "Pain is necessary. We need it. It lets us know when we are hurt, when we are wrong. Pain helps teach us. It is a necessary consequence of life. I want my pain. I couldn't be me without it."

Edward looked a touch disconcerted.

"Before you said that," he said with an almost tired tone, "I would have said that pain was overrated."

I smiled, "It is only overrated if you never learn from it."

He nodded, "I want to learn."

I searched his face, "Learn what?"

I looked deep into my eyes, with a presence and a passion that struck through me. I felt as though my heart was humming in my chest and I could not contain the force that look instilled in me.

"Everything," he said.

"What's your deepest fear?" I asked.

His face slacked, but his gaze lost none of its pull.

"That I am damned," he said. "Truly. That my soul, even if it is not still carried with me, is doomed to an eternity of suffering in the pits of Hell, and even now, I will be bereft of happiness until I cease to be as I am, until my final death."

"You think you won't be happy?" I asked.

He shook his head, "I believe I can't be happy. There is a very significant difference."

There really was.

"You're wrong," I said.

He smiled a twisted smile, "Of course you would say that. You want the possibility that we can be happy together."

"No," I said, sitting straighter. "You believe it is possible too."

"Do I?" he asked.

I nodded, smiling, "If you didn't, then you never would have come back."

I left him in stunned silence as I stepped out of the car. He joined me quickly as we started walking into school. Even with the few students that were already at school, we were getting a substantial number of looks.

"I must know everything about you," he stated, a sort of fervor to him. I couldn't help but laugh.

"I am a perfectly ordinary girl," I said, indicating myself with a sweep of my hand. "You are the exceptional one, worthy of study and questioning."

"That is patently absurd," he argued. "I could ask you a hundred thousand quires and not get through a fraction of the depths I wish to know of you."

"Why do you find me so interesting?" I asked. "And it isn't just that I am interesting. You seem… I don't know. Particularly driven."

He laughed, and it was so loud it turned just about every head that I could see.

"That!" he intoned. "That right there is why you fascinate me! Most people could stand to have truth beat them about the head forever and a day before it makes an impression, and yet you can stretch to the truth of the matter as soon as it is relevant."

I was about to ask further, but I found that we were nearing the closest building, where Jess was standing under the eaves, out of the rain. It was raining?

Rather than continue our conversation, I tilted my head back and let the cool rain fall on my face. I half expected Edward to keep walking, to get out of the wet himself, but when I ran my fingers through my damp hair and opened my eyes, he was still there, watching me. There was a softness to his expression, an openness that I couldn't remember seeing there before. It was sweet, somehow young, practically innocent. I liked it more than I knew how to put into words.

We continued walking and found ourselves in Jess's presence.

"Good Morning, Jessica," said Edward. It was his closer to his usual voice, the voice he used when he was with me and not his usual everyday voice he used in class. I had been listening to it more in the last night than I had in the week before that, and more in that week than I had ever heard it before that, and still, I was fighting to keep from having my toes curl at just the very sound of it, to say nothing of it being directed at me. Jess, poor Jess, didn't stand a chance.

She said something that sounded like she was trying to say hello, but it became somewhere between a hi and a hey before she just gave up and sort of giggle just this side of hysterically. Edward smiled, and that didn't help matters in the least.

Jess finally turned her attention towards me so that she could actually speak.

"Do you have my Trig notes?" she asked, her voice still tremulous.

I was fairly certain Jess had never taken notes in her life, but I could see the significant look she gave me.

"I think Mike has them," I said. "I will get them from him in Government and get them to you before class."

"You are a rock star, Just Bella!" she said, with an enthusiasm that wasn't even close to faked. "See you in Trig!"

She tottered off, the hysteria not quite out of her voice and continued laughter.

"Was that as obvious as I think it was?" I asked.

Edward gave me a deadpan look, "Was it supposed to be subtle?"

I tried not to smile and it didn't work out.

"You forget," he said. "Most people are easy for me to read. You are the exception."

"And that is why I interest you?" I asked.

He looked stunned and sighed out a breathy laugh, "Exactly. I would have added a bit more, but you did it in one, for certain."

"What would you have added?" I asked as we began walking towards my first class.

"An explanation that might be best left to when we have few potential eavesdroppers," he said with a grin.

"More theories?" I asked.

He grinned broadly, and graciously took my arm to prevent me from walking into another student, "Exactly."

We came up to class and he stepped before me, "I will save you a seat at lunch."

"Okay," I said, suddenly wishing that I didn't have to go to class, but knowing better than to suggest skipping class. It wasn't like half the school had already seen us or anything.

"Oh," he said, as though thinking of something. "I do not mind if you consider us to be dating."

I frowned, "Okay…. Good to know."

He smiled, an odd knowing smile, "Also, I wouldn't mind if you called me your boyfriend, even if it is seven kinds of unfair."

I went beat red, "Also, good to know."

"I will see you at lunch," he said with a laugh and headed off. "But I can't wait to read what you have to say."

"What on earth did that mean?" I asked no one in particular.

English was nothing to write home about. I turned in an essay on Shakespeare and was walking out of class when Mike caught up with me.

"So," he said, "sounds like you have been up to-"

"How was your date with Jess?" I asked, cutting him off. He was about to say something demeaning, and I figured we would just skip it.

"What?" he asked suddenly, disarmed. "Why? Did Jess say- did Jess ask-?"

"She hasn't told me anything, yet," I added. We spent the rest of the way to class figuring out what he should say the next time he saw her and what I should say the next time I did. Naturally, I would be telling Jess the exact same things I told him, just so everyone knew, even if not everyone knew that they knew, you know?

Once we were done with Government and I was heading to Trig, it didn't really occur to me what I was in for until Jess grabbed my arm before I was all the way through the door, throwing our coats vague in the direction of the coat hooks and dragging me to our seats.

"Tell me everything," she hissed in a whisper to me.

"Jeez, Jess," I said in similar tones, "if I do, can I have my arm back."

"Are you dating?" she asked.

I paused. This… something about this was weird. I couldn't put my finger on what.

"I guess so," I said. "I mean, it isn't set in stone or anything, but he said we could date, if I wanted to."

Jess looked as though she was about to have an aneurysm.

"Is he your boyfriend?" she asked, almost indignantly.

Now, something was very, very wrong here.

"Yes," I said, testing the waters.

Jess sighed, "That is like seven kinds of unfair."

It clicked. He knew. Edward knew what she was going to be saying. He said he was good at reading people. Most people. I was the exception. Did… did he mean read as in, reading minds? Is that what he meant, that he could read minds but not mine? That was good to know. Except that… he…

His last words rang in my ears; he said read what I have to say. Was… was he reading Jess's mind, right now? Was everything I was saying or about to say going to be piped directly to him. I looked at Jess with an expression I was sure was utter horror. I could swear, I heard his distant laugh.

"What?" she asked. "You look weird."

"I'm fine," I replied quickly, returning my face to a neutral expression. "I was just remembering something that was totally unfair myself."

I put a little extra emphasis on the last words, just enough that he might get it, but she wouldn't understand it.

"Edward Frickin' Cullen is your boyfriend," she sighed. "How are you not bouncing off all the walls and gloating at your winning lottery ticket?!"

"Jess," I complained. "It isn't like that…"

"'Isn't like that'?" she hissed quietly. "Do you know how many girls at this school would want to be in your shoes right now? All of them! Some of the guys too."

I shook my head, "That doesn't matter."

"Doesn't-" she looked like she was choking on her words. "Listen to me Isabella Swan soon-to-be-Cullen!"

It was my turn to gag, but she steamed ahead.

"I have seen the way he looks at you," she said. "I have never seen my dad look at my mom like that, and I have seen their wedding videos. The boy has it bad, for you."

I froze. Wait, what?

"No," I said. "He likes me, sure, but he said he doesn't mind if we are dating or if I consider him my boyfriend. He hasn't said anything serious at all."

Jess looked at me, "Have you said anything serious at all?"

I thought about it, "I told him that I wanted to be with him."

She looked at me blankly, "Be still my beating heart."

"Oh hush," I said.

"You've had time to think about it," she said. "How do you feel about him? Really?"

I thought about it. Suddenly, nervous. He very well could be hearing all of this, or reading it or whatever. How could I possibly be honest if I knew he could….

Realization dawned on me, passed through me in a cascade like water, coloring everything in its passing. He was right. The smug vampire was right!

"I cared about him longer than I realized," I said and something about my tone pulled Jessica's entire attention towards me.

"It wasn't the fact that he is the most beautiful boy that I have ever laid eyes upon that first drew me to him," I said honestly. "True, I have never had a boy who could lay me out, witless and ill-composed with a smile before, but I wouldn't stay just for that."

She just breathed, looking at me.

"Edward," I said, almost caressing his name as I spoke it, "has been in my dreams since before he saved my life. I have never dreamed of boys or felt this way about anyone, wanting to be with him and beside him all the time and feeling like he is still here even when he is not actually here. He scares the nightmares away and even if we aren't together in more than name right now, I think we could be something more, stronger, together than we ever could apart. I want to build a life with him."

I didn't think I had even admitted that to myself yet, but there it was. I wanted my future with him.

Jess looked like she was about to cry, so naturally, that was when called upon her.

We didn't have much time to talk for the rest of class, when we were walking out, I saw the expression on her face. It was sort of wistful and sort of, distant, almost.

"Mike asked about your date," I said. It was technically true, even if I asked him about it first.

Jessica's whole face lit up, "Tell me!"

We spent the rest of Spanish talking about him. Granted, it was mostly about how he looked as we talked about the date and why we came up with the lines for him to say to her. She was actually completely okay with how I pushed him away from making up feelings and sticking to noticing and bringing up the stuff he really liked and what was fun. She got a little glowy when I told her that he liked the way she was unselfconscious about eating in front of him and that he liked that she didn't care what people thought. By the time the bell rang for lunch, we weren't talking much anymore because Jess looked like she was ready to swoon, but as soon as we were standing up, she took one look at my face and smiled too.

"You aren't sitting with us, are you?" she asked rhetorically.

We stepped out of class and he was already there, leaning against the closest wall, one knee bent. I realized he was wearing an entirely different style than he had been wearing last… Thursday? I couldn't even remember what he wore last night. He was wearing a brown leather jacket and designer cargo pants, the sort of get up a professional motorcycle racer might wear, matching it with a black T-shirt and a silver chain. His boots were the only thing the same. And by god, I just liked looking at him!

"See you later, Bella," Jess said pointedly.

I got within arms reach and stopped before he said anything. He seemed terribly lost in thought.

"Hello," he said, his eyes finding mine.

"Hey," I said, unable to keep the smile off my face. His expression was more pensive, sort of repentant.

"I owe you an apology," he said.

"You don't owe me anything," I said earnestly.

"But, I-" he started. Without thinking, I pushed a finger to his lips. He looked as though I just jabbed him with a red hot poker but managed to freeze. More instinct than conscious choice, I stepped back.

"Edward," I said, "I am here, with you, because I choose to be. It isn't because you checked all the right boxes and did all the right things. I think we can agree that there are a few checks that many would say should be counted against you."

He nodded, but said nothing.

"You don't have to earn my company," I said. "You don't owe me anything."

He considered that, "Can I explain?"

"Yes!" I said expansively. "If I get a choice, so do you."

His grin found his face again, and I melted.

"You shouldn't touch me," he said, his tone still pleasant.

I took a step away, and he matched it, maintaining our proximity.

"It is alright for us to touch," he said, "but I need to be prepared. It can be… hard, sometimes, with you so close to me."

"Okay," I said. "I can totally do that. Or not do it. Whichever…."

He smiled again.

"I wasn't fair to you, before," he said. "I knew you would figure it out, of course. You are you, after all. But what I wasn't expecting was to be solidly put in my place."

"Put in your place?" I demanded. "What does that mean?"

He stopped, just short of the lunch line, just out of the standing people's easy listening.

"I allowed you into a situation where you felt obligated to confide in a friend without expressly informing you that I would be getting that information as well," he said. "I let you figure it out, but that was not an excuse, a poor justification. Then, not only did you actually figure it out, you showed me just how idiotic I was being by doing exactly what I was unwilling to do. You trusted and spoke up honestly, even if you knew I could hear, especially because you knew I could. I was more interested in showing off a parlor trick and you were more interested in what really mattered; your heart."

He glanced over his own shoulder, "Jessica is wrong. I believe I am the one who has won the proverbial lottery."

I felt something. It was deep and profound and unlike anything I had ever known. I wanted to do something, but he had said I shouldn't touch him, not without warning, and this would be without warning. So, I encircled the sleeve of his jacket with my hand. Immediately, he responded and put his hand in mine. It was warm again, unlike his lips had been just moments before.

"Hey," I said. "Are you doing that?"

He smiled sheepishly as we stepped into line, "Another parlor trick."

"Hmm," I considered.

"What?" he asked, a joyous curiosity deep in his face.

"You don't have to pretend for me," I said. "I kind of like it, you know, when you are just yourself."

He looked at me, seemingly aware of the people near us as he said, "You aren't… uncomfortable?"

I shook my head, "I sort of like it."

He gave me a sideways look that playfully questioned either my sanity or my identity.

"Must be the town," he said. "Next you will be wearing shorts when it sixty degree weather."

I shivered, "No thank you!"

His hand began to cool under mine. I squeezed it again.

"So," he gathered, "aren't you going to ask me?"

"Ask you what?" I asked.

He looked at me squarely, "Maybe? Interesting. For someone who cares so deeply about fairness, I would have thought that you would have preferred that I elaborate on my feelings for you in kind."

I hadn't thought about that at all. How odd.

"I guess…" I said as we walked into the line proper, "I guess that I am only interested in that if you want to tell me."

He seemed to think about it.

"I do," he said, and proceeded to start gathering food on a tray.

"Are you eating?" I asked, confused.

He gave me a look, "Any reason that I shouldn't be?"

Oh. Right.

"Half is for you," he said, "if that is alright."

"Um," I said, looking at the overladen tray. "Sure."

I realized that this was the second time that he had paid for my meal. If we ate before the dance, it would be three times. I wasn't sure I liked this trend.

"What does that look mean?" he asked as he got change and carried the tray towards the table we had sat at the last lunch we had had together.

"I…" I gathered, sitting closer to him this time, but more like we had the night before, with an arms space between us.

"Yes?" he asked again, and his curious look was so intense and so entirely his, I was almost tempted not to tell him simply so that he would keep it. But, I relented.

"I don't have a lot of money," I said.

He considered, then said, "Ah. We are back to fairness again."

"I guess we are," I said.

"And that would matter," he said, "if we were equals in this."

I felt myself frowning.

"We aren't," he went on. "Fifty dollars has a very different value to each of us."

"But that isn't fair," I reiterated.

He pushed the tray a bit closer to me. Grudgingly, I took up a piece of pizza.

"Can you speak Portuguese?" he asked.

I looked askance at him, "No."

He said something fluid and long in what I presumed was Portuguese. I realized that I didn't even need to understand what he said, and I could still listen to his voice all day.

"I am going to assume that you had a point," I tried to say with the same defiance I had a moment earlier. It just made him smile.

"We each have different skills, different abilities," he said. "We are bound to be at odds, considering our age difference, but if you had as many years as I to acquire the things that I have, we would be more evenly matched."

He had a point.

"I have this in abundance," he went on. "You do not. There is no shame or boasting in this fact; it simply is."

I munched pizza, "I understand that, but I am an unemployed student who was brought up by a police chief and a kindergarten teacher. I have a very different idea about what is acceptable spending."

He considered.

"That is your choice," he said, and I was about to get indignant when he added, "I can accept that."

His tone was his own, but the intonation of his words was the same as when I agreed that I wouldn't touch him unless he was prepared.

"How about this," he said. "When it comes to food, unless specified otherwise, I will pay. You can choose where to eat and what you to order, and I will make no comment on the subject whatever, unless there is an unbiased concern for your health. Is that agreeable?"

I considered, "Alright, but no gifts."

He looked taken aback, "You want no tokens?"

"No," I said. "You aren't earning my company, remember?"

He looked genuinely put out. It was rather adorable, actually.

"How about this?" he countered. "May I impress upon you tokens that I have spent no money upon? Things that were within my possession before this agreement or ones that I can make or acquire without spending anything?"

I nodded, "I can agree to that."

"What of spending money on intangibles?" he asked.

I blinked, "Meaning what exactly?"

"Not on goods or products," he explained, "but on services or experiences. Say entrance into a museum?"

I considered, "So long as the museum isn't the Louvre, and I can agree to that."

He gave a mischievous grin, "So, no surprise visits to Paris then?"

"Let's keep it in the continental United States," I said dryly.

Then, something occurred to me. We could go. I had my passport from when Mom almost got married on a beach in Mexico. School would be out for the summer in a few months. We could actually go to Paris, to Rome, to Amsterdam, to Prague, to London, to Tokyo, to New York, to Sydney, to anywhere in the world. We could go, together.

"For now," I added begrudgingly. He grinned in a way I wasn't entirely sanguine about.

I ate in silence for a moment, until he finally said, "Tell me what you are thinking about, please."

I swallowed and wished I had a mirror or something to check and make sure I didn't have any sauce on my face or anything.

"I, uh…." I murmured, trying to figure out how to phrase if, "I was wondering what… reading was like."

He gave a brief smile, "That's simple enough to explain."

I grabbed something else from the tray, only having eyes for him as he gathered his thoughts. This went on just long enough that I suspected that he might be deciding whether or not to tell me something.

"It isn't as simple as reading a book," he said, keeping his voice low, causing me to lean forward, "or even listening in on a frequency no one else can hear. As soon as I meet someone, I get an idea of how receptive they will be. Some people are so receptive that I do not need to do anything in order to hear exactly what they think. Others, I need to enter their mind first."

"Enter?" I asked, trying not to sound wary.

He grinned, "It is another parlor trick, one of those abilities that we all have, to some degree. One might call it enthrallment."

I thought about that, "Mrs. Cope, and the waitress."

He nodded, "Yes. It is something I am particularly good at but not because I am strong at controlling people, as some are; I get an impression of who the person is, their thoughts, and it helps me devise a command or explanation in such a way that they accept it more willingly. Enthralling someone makes it easier to enter their mind, and once I have, the easier it becomes to do so. Also, familiarity makes it easier to read."

I suddenly felt afraid.

"What?" he asked, looking distressed enough that I found myself answering him, if only to hopefully give his face something else to do but look unhappy.

"I thought…." I said, but my throat closed a moment, "I thought you said you were getting better at understanding. I didn't think you meant-"

He laughed. It wasn't loud but it was totally disarming.

"I haven't lied to you Bella," he said once his mirth had ceased. "I am completely sincere when I say that I would prefer that I had."

I gave him a surprised and angry look, which made him laugh all over again.

"Bella," he said, and I felt his hand find mine under the table. The cool feel of it seemed to ground me and shake me out of my anger spiral.

"From the moment I met you," he said, his expression and words so genteel, it was breathtaking, "I have gotten nothing from you. The first day we met, before we even met, here in the cafeteria, I could tell, yours was a mind I would never get anything from. I tried to enthrall you from across the room, inspiring you to come talk to me, which I didn't need the improved senses I have now to see that you would have been willing to do so."

I felt myself blush.

"And nothing," he said. "Your mind is your own, completely. You are apart from me, unlike anyone I have ever met. There was a time I would have given up the thoughts of all the others, my greatest gift and tool for helping maintain my family's anonymity, if I could hear you and know you how your mind worked. Now, I only want it in my more selfish and weaker moments, when you do something so unexpected and so bewildering to me, that I must know how such a notion was formed."

I found myself picking a spork into a Styrofoam bowl of mac-n-cheese. Sighing, I ate some.

"I'm glad you can't," I said after swallowing. "It would be impossible for us to date otherwise."

"I wouldn't try to control you, Bella," he said, sounding halfway to hurt as he did.

"I'm not talking about that," I said. "I'm talking about trust."

He looked contemplative as I went on, "My words and thoughts are my own, as they should be. I get to share with you what I will, my decision. I could very well be lying to you, just as you could very well be lying to me. But at some point, for the relationship to continue, we have to be willing to put aside our own fears and trust the other. If you could hear the truth, you would never need to trust me."

He seemed to consider that.

"I don't like your idea that I have never trusted anyone before I met you," he said. "But I won't discount it just because I don't like it. It is an interesting idea, regardless."

I felt like a complete cow.

"That's not what I-" I began but he just gave me his crooked grin and I sort of forgot what I was going to say next.

"It is easier to trust someone when their mind is clear to me," he said. "But it doesn't mean I can only trust when I don't know. I can also trust when I do. As you say, it is a choice."

I found my voice again, "Edward, I'm so sorry. I-"

His cool finger found my lips. I wasn't sure what he felt when I did it, but a shock of cool electricity seemed to zing through my whole body. I trembled from the temperature and from the fact that the pad of his finger was upon my lips, bowing them under the slight pressure that felt like it was also squeezing my heart in the best fashion imaginable. Again, I felt like I wanted something or wanted to do something, but couldn't understand what. If this was anything like when I put my finger to his lips, I could see why he found it overwhelming.

"I want you to be yourself," he said, "no matter what. Even if it might seem a slight upon me. I can take it! I want to know all of you. Never hold yourself back. You cannot hurt me."

For an instant, I was visited by the urge to jam my spork into his hand in front of me, but as soon as it entered my head, I felt sick with the idea of hurting him. I couldn't do that. But then it dawned on me; would it hurt him? Was there anything I could do to cause him physical pain? Could he feel pain? What was he, really?

The questions poured through my mind, and I could see the undisguised delight spread across his face. I was about to ask, why he was so happy or what it was like being a vampire, when something icy trickled down my spine. I felt myself turn, so instinctive that it was almost uncontrollable, and looked to the Cullen's table. My eyes fell upon her immediately, the gorgeous sister who sat furthest to one side, her bearish beau beside her. Her eyes were upon me, a stern expression on her face. And, as though she had been waiting for my eyes alone, her expression changed.

I couldn't have expected it. She was so beautiful, a beauty that I could compare with Edwards, which was saying a lot. But in the moment, something in her face shifted. It was almost as though the animosity she felt could not be conveyed upon her usual continence, so her muscle pulled her bone and flesh into unnatural shapes that belied her beauty. It was almost as though something had come to life, something within that lay just below the surface, always there, always waiting, a monstrosity that stretched and writhed beneath her skin and revealing her truly inhuman self. Her fangs all but openly bared, her expression ten thousand billion times more lethal and threatening than any Edward had ever shown me, it took all that I was to not immediately run screaming from the cafeteria. In the last instance, I remembered Edward's words of the previous night, that running would only encourage chasing and death, and settled for turning quickly back to the food before me.

Then, so low I wasn't sure I heard it, a defiant hiss split the air, spitting from Edwards curled lip as he turned to face the table sideways over his shoulder. I quickly glanced back and saw that the large boy at her side had placed a hand upon her shoulder. Something about it conveyed an ironclad grasp as much as support and a request for restraint. It somehow made me feel as safe as Edwards defense had.

"Are you finished?" he asked, looking at the tray.

"Yes," I said, standing quickly. Just about the most delicious food imaginable had all the edible appeal of rubber cement at the moment.

He slid his arm through mine and we exited the cafeteria.

"Jessica wanted to talk with you about what she gathered from us sitting together and talking," he said, "but her analysis will have to wait. I am not letting you stay in the same room with Rosalie at the moment."

We headed to Biology, but had the halls to ourselves.

"What was that about?" I asked, feeling a little weak in the knees.

"You needn't worry," he said. "Nothing will happen to you, I swear it."

I started to feel angry.

"Don't do that," I said.

"Do what?" he asked, looking surprised.

"Try to spare me," I said. "I'm not stupid; that wasn't nothing. Don't try to keep me in the dark because you're afraid."

"Afraid?" he demanded, his voice rising. "I am not-"

"Afraid that the more I see what your life is like and the potential danger and how unnatural your world is, the more likely I am to leave?" I shot back. "Yeah, you are. Stop it. I make my own decisions, Edward. Period. I will not tolerate being lied to, I don't care how scared you are or how justified you think you are. No lies."

He seemed to relent.

"That was not my intent," he said.

"Are you going to tell me now?" I asked pointedly.

He looked annoyed but too amused to hold onto it.

"You really are too becoming for your own good," he said. "The bulk is a story too long for the time we have now, but in short, humans knowing what we are is dangerous, for us and for them."

"Dangerous how?" I asked.

"I cannot tell you that," he said, but before I could do more then puff myself up, he added quickly, words pouring out of him, "There are things that I cannot tell you, not because I am afraid, but because knowing them could mean your death. Vampires do not want themselves known. What damage is done I cannot undo, but I can prevent it from getting worse. I am hoping that your protected mind will be to your benefit, but I am not certain and I do not risk your life lightly. I will be as honest with you as I can be about myself, but I am not obligated to give you information that will put you at risk. Can you accept that?"

I was taken aback. I had no idea that I was risking my life simply by knowing him. Once it occurred to me, I hated the idea. Under what conditions could knowing Edward merit a death sentence? It was the most important thing to me, next to my own life.

"How is it dangerous for you?" I asked.

He sighed but before he could complain, I added, "You said you could answer about you."

He tried not to smile, "Would that I were crueler, I could wish you to be less endearing. As it is, I will take you and keep you and dash the rest."

I felt suddenly decidedly warm.

"Our secret must be kept," he said. "If it isn't, those that know may be put to death, along with those that did the telling."

I felt suddenly cold. I wasn't risking my life; I was risking his. Could I do that? By what right did I have to risk him, simply to know him and keep him? But what was the alternative? Make him leave? Could I even do that? And how could I justify it, when I would so hastily condemn him for doing the same for my sake?

"You're scared," he said, looking into my face. "What can I do?"

"I…" I said, my throat thick. I thought about it. What I wanted, what some part of me longed for, was for him to hold me. I wanted to feel close to him, physically, to be reassured by another body pressed to mine, and I wanted it to be his body. But I knew that he couldn't, that I would be asking too much.

Then, slowly, so slowly that I didn't realize he was moving at first, he raised a hand. With the blade of his finger, he drew a line, starting at my eyebrow, around my eye, across my cheekbone, down and under my nose, and across the plane of my far cheek. His hand opened as it did, his fingers brushing my ear and nestling into my hair as he cupped my face. For a moment, I took in nothing of the world but his coolness and his touch, until I realized my sight was full of his face, a look of utter serene sincerity and care upon his face. I would have given a lot to kiss him at that moment.

"Tell me something," he said.

I decided to agree, but what came out of my lips was, "Anything…"

For a moment, he looked completely at a loss, I could see just how many things he wanted to ask at that moment, but he seemed to shake himself.

"You are too kind," he said charitably, "but really what I want to know is what was occurring to you when we were so rudely interrupted in the cafeteria."

It took me a moment to realign the context.

"Oh," I said, remembering, "I just realized that you are a vampire."

He grinned, and I swear that I caught a bit of extra canine.

"So you say," he said.

"No," I huffed, "I just mean, I have no idea what that really means. Like, it is one thing to say it, but it is another thing entirely to understand it, to contextualize it. I can sort of imagine it, but I don't have to."

There was a look almost like pride, like joy.

"I am at your interrogative disposal," he said gallantly. "Ask me all that you will!"

I honestly didn't know where to begin, so I asked the question at the forefront of my brain.

"Do vampires kiss?" I asked, trying and failing not to go beet red, about as well as he tried and failed not to laugh.

"Of all the questions you could ask," he chortled, "that is your first?"

"It was the most prominent one on my mind, thank you very much," I grumped.

He looked troubled a moment.

"What?" I asked, trying not to sound frantic for some reason.

"We do," he said, "after a fashion."

"Meaning?" I asked. Why did he have to be so cryptic now?!

"We do undertake some physical affection," he said. "It isn't such a persistent drive as it appears in humans, but it does exist and regularly happens… between two vampires."

I felt myself shrink a little, "Oh."

"Don't misunderstand me," he said earnestly, "I would very much like to kiss you-"

I wondered when exactly I had swallowed the hyperactive, supersonic, radioactive flying elephants that were now pingponging themselves around the inside of my rib cage…

"-but, I am afraid that might not be possible," he concluded.

"Might not?" I asked.

The bell rang.

He sighed, saying quickly, "Being physically close to you is hard. My instincts aren't primarily interested in anything so gentle with you."

For a moment, I was visited by the mental image of him being rough with me, and the very genuine thrill that followed was hard to discern between fear and excitement. Then the image of the man being pulled down the alley into shadow and silent death shook me back to my senses.

"You want to kill me?" I asked quickly before students could arrive.

He looked deeply into my eyes, "Yes."

The bottom went out of my stomach. I knew that. But, like being a vampire, I hadn't really contextualized it. I didn't really understand it.

"I want to keep you more," he went on, "but that other drive is in me, unending, and it always will be."

Students started filling the halls. Before I could fully decompress Edward's words, Mr. Banner was opening the door and we were walking into class. I found my seat along with Edward mechanically, without much thought for Edward who seemed to be hovering beside me the whole way to the plastic chair, slightly anxious and also resolved to allow me the space to process.

Almost as though the universe was conspiring, Mr. Banner wheeled in a cart with a television that was older than my mother's, and started playing a movie that looked older than her. I couldn't think of anything that could hold as little interest for me at that moment.

Edward wanted to kill me. There was a part of him, a part of his vampire self, that wanted to taste my blood and feed from me until my death. It was not something fleeting either, some whim. It would always be there, inescapable. The more I thought about it, the more something firmed up in my mind.

Edward could have killed me. Right then, in the dark, he could have probably done it before anyone else in the room could realize it. This was not a gamble, a flip of a coin. Like killing in general, if he wanted to, he would. It was absolutely not outside his power to kill me. But it was also entirely within his power to not kill me. I could trust him. No; I did trust him.

I relaxed and Edward seemed to do so as well, seeming to pick up on my mood as easily as anything. I realized that he was actually sitting a bit closer to me that he had in the past, and I slowly and casually leaned a little closer. He looked at me out of the corner of his eye and put on a show of playful disapproval that I didn't find the least bit genuine. Cool fingers slid into mine under the table, and I felt a shiver as they brushed my leg to their final destination.

The class ended before the video did, and we were told that we would be watching more next class. After the time I had just spent beside Edward, I really couldn't seem to care.

"You are different," Edward noted as we left class and he walked me to the gym. A disgruntled Mike passed us in silence, but I could have sworn that Edward's mood improved as he went.

"I am different," I said, smiling.

"What changed?" he asked, steadying me through the grasp on his arm as someone jousted me in passing.

"I trust you," I said.

His expression became momentarily cloudy, "How so?"

"Do you intend to continue killing?" I asked.

He laughed, "No. And it is strange to think that I do mean it. It has been so much a part of my life for so long, going without… I suppose it might be a bit like you trying to become comfortable with the idea of never breathing again."

I smiled, "Weird thought. But to my original point; then I have nothing to worry about."

He became pensive, "I could-"

"You could," I said. "But it would not be an accident. It is your choice, not something that was outside of your control. You get to make the decision. It might be hard and every day, but that is what a relationship is; work."

He smirked at me, "And what work are you doing?"

I was saved from answering by us arriving at Gym. As I turned to face him fully, I noticed just how many people were watching us. I tried not to be self-conscious. Before I could answer, he touched me again. He stroked my face, his eye boring into mine, and I found it took some effort not to get caught up in the moment and do something stupid, like jump on him.

"You aren't the only one who has instincts that demand action," I said before I could stop myself. We looked at each other in equal surprise before I promptly beat a hasty retreat where he could not follow, save for the quiet chuckle that came after me.

Gym was an absolute blur. Not only was I caught up in thoughts of my foot-so-far-down-my-throat-that-my-toes-were-keeping-my-appendix-company moment, but I was caught up with thoughts of Edward himself. Mike at least was stalwart despite the fact that I was no longer single, which I still couldn't wrap my head around. He volunteered at my partner for badminton, which given the number of injuries and such I had caused since arriving in Gym class, meant that I got a partner without Coach Clapp having to assign me one, for which I was grateful. So, of course, I showed my gratitude by striking both Mike and myself with my racket when I swung and missed and hit the net instead. After that, I stayed in the back and let Mike do all the work, because it worked out better for both of us that way.

Though, I could not escape Mike before Gym was over.

"Look," he said, looking at the ground, ironically.

"I'm not going to tell you what to do," he said. "I get it. You are going to do what you are going to do, but I will say this; you shouldn't date Cullen."

I rolled my eyes, "Oh? And why is that?"

"I don't know," he said. "The guy… something about him makes me think he a predator, you know? Like, you don't feel… I don't know, safe with him, I guess. He looks at you like something to eat."

I snorted. It was the best I could do to cover my laugh.

"I get it," he said, as though I had dismissed him. "It isn't up to me. But I don't want to see you get hurt."

That, at least, I could respect.

"I don't either, Mike," I said. "But he is what I want."

"Why though?" he asked. "I am not trying to be an ass, really. I just don't get it."

"Mike," I said patiently, "I understand, both that I matter to you and that I matter to Edward. But, and I say this because it is in your best interest; get over it. This isn't any of your business. You're welcome to be my friend, but that's it. You can accept that, or not. It's completely up to you."

"So," he said harshly, "I get to be your friend, so long as I act all the ways you accept and none of the way you don't? Is that it?"

I nodded, "Yes. I will not accept you acting entitled to me and my life. You're not. I will not accept you acting in ways that hurt me or my friends, including you. I am not obligated to be your friend no matter what."

It was a good thing class was over, because Mike stomped off without any sign that he would be willing to interact with me again any time soon. We changed out and as soon as I left the locker room, he was there. Unlike before, after Spanish, his eyes found mine immediately. He moved towards me a tad quicker than he normally had before, and with a relative abruptness, his hands came up to cradle my head. I was so caught up in feeling just how gentle his touch was, how careful and practically reverent it felt, that it wasn't until his touch caused a dull twinge from the spot where my racket had hit my head that I recognized his touch for what it was; it reminded me of his adopted father, the doctor's probing investigation to access the extent of my head injury. This lead to a string of question that paraded themselves through my mind. But the first answered itself.

"You were watching?" I asked, aghast. I didn't exactly feel spied on, but the idea of him seeing me so clumsy and ungainly, while he was the epitome of poise and grace, just made me feel awful.

"Yes," he said. "I'm sure that you would find high school just as tedious as we do after attending it for so long. Anything that makes the days here more interesting is a blessing."

There it was again. I wasn't a person or something worth valuing. I was an object, a curiosity, something to fill up his time and alleviate the boredom. He didn't care about me.

I was stomping away before I could remember that I couldn't hop in my truck and drive him because it was already home. Why the heck did I agree to him driving me anywhere!? I guess I was walking home.

He kept up easily with me, and I expected him to be asking me what was wrong, making excuses and justifications, but he didn't do any of that. Instead, as I ignored him completely and started down the most direct route towards the highway and my way home, he simply joined me. Except, when we stepped off the curb, he lost his footing on a small patch of mud and slid sideways, falling sidelong onto the damp pavement.

The resounding gritty smack as he landed drew the attention of everyone in the area. There were a few concerned hisses and some irreverent applause from some of the guys nearby. He stood up, his jacket splattered with dirty water and his hair mussed and his expression smarting. It wasn't fair that he should still look so charming. But all things considered, it was perhaps the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for me.

"You didn't have to do that," I said, so that only he could hear as I dug a packet of tissues out of my bag and used a few to get most of the mess off his jacket.

"Do what?" he said, his expression giving nothing away, though his eyes gave me everything.

After I finished, he took my hand.

"We aren't the same," he said seriously. "And I am grateful for that; for though you see me for that I can be, I have spent hundreds of times that span seeing only the evil in me. I honestly wish that I were more like you, for it I was, I might actually be worthy of your attention."

And, that was perhaps the sweetest thing anyone had ever said to me.

"You're insane," I said, wishing both that he wasn't still a mess and that he wouldn't be put out if I were to press my face into his chest.

He chuckled and smiled his crooked smile, "I think that we are in the same proverbial boat on this one. We both are used to seeing only the worst aspects of ourselves, while we choose to focus on only the worthier traits in the other. We view the others' impression as ludicrous and our own as patently obvious."

Before I could respond, his expression hardened.

"What?" I asked, looking around for what he was reacting to.

"My sister," he said, with a degree of annoyance I had never seen upon him. Immediately, I began looking for the impending attack of the glorious Rosalie, and came up short. Literally.

"Hello," chirruped the diminutive Alice who all but materialized out of the crowd.

"What is it?" Edward all but hissed, his teeth clenched.

Alice simply rolled her eyes, and kept her attention on me.

"Hi," I said, taken suddenly aback. I suddenly realized up until this point, I hadn't really considered Edward's family with any sort of context. I was still really getting used to the idea that I was walking around with a vampire, one that was as complex and interesting as any person I had ever met, and yet mattered to me more than anyone else had either. Trying to wrap my head around that and his family at the same time was nigh impossible.

Alice grinned at me.

"That's enough," said Edward. "Why aren't you looking after Rosalie?"

I frowned, and felt myself gearing up to admonish Edward for being rude and controlling, when I caught something in Alice's eye. As I did, she smiled at me, and in that smile, I knew that she saw what Edward was doing too. She understood that he was scared and defensive of me, and, somehow, her presence and expression pointed this out to me in just the right way for me to understand that my admonishments would do little good. As she and I stood there, we were communicating between each other without saying a word. Understanding and meaning were flowing back and forth, better than it ever had with Edward and me. We were connecting in a way that made it feel like ours was the chief exchange going on, as though Edward was on the outside of this thing going on between us, like he was the third wheel. As her expression seemed to playfully huff at the lunacy of boys, I couldn't help but laugh. She clutched my forearm in such a way that it felt natural for me to grip hers in return, as we were suddenly laughing together at the outlandish and melodramatic vampire in boy's clothing before us, equal parts horrified that his vampire sister was so physically familiar with me, probably risk my life in his eyes, and also that we were connecting, happily, instantaneously, and above all, fearlessly. He seemed to concede that there was little he could do in the situation by fall back sullenly to wait for us to subside in our effusive laughter that was directed solely at him, which, of course, only served to redouble our mirth. The grip on our arms rapidly became necessary to steady each other in turn. Finally, Edward went to go stand against a nearby wall and seemed to brood, in modelesque fashion.

"He really is quite impossible," she finally commented at long last as he settled back. "You have no idea how long I have wanted to do that."

"Laugh at him?" I giggled, trying not to get started again. She beamed.

"That too," she quipped, "but really, to meet you. He wouldn't have it."

I could sympathize, "He really just wants to keep me safe."

She gave me a look that cut right through me. It seemed to ask me if I really was so obtuse.

"I get it," I said.

"Do you?" she asked.

"You're going to say a gilded cage is still a cage," I said.

She tapped her lips with a single index finger, "Actually, what I was going to say is that the shackle you close yourself is still a shackle, but you really don't need me to explain that."

I didn't. Her presence here had done something important. Edward wasn't it. True, he mattered to me more than anyone else did right now, but Alice being here showed me, without her needing to explain it, that there were other people out in the world that were just as interesting and deep and as meaningful to me as he could be. She conveyed to me that I was beside him, not bound to him. He often tried to control me, and had I felt the least bit as though he might be the only chance I had for happiness in this world, refuting him in anything might feel impossible.

I knew what I had to do. I stood taller, and seemed to mentally prepare myself for the coming talk, when Alice took my arm, pulling me around as she looped hers in mine.

"Not so fast there," she smiled, us practically leaning into each other, then staying there, as though conspirators.

"He has no right to tell you what you can and can't do," she pointed out. "You know that and are very good at pointing it out, but you are missing the point."

"Which is?" I asked, and somehow the asking made her smile. She was nowhere near as beautiful as Edward or Rosalie, but her elfin face was very pretty.

"Telling him to stop controlling you is the same as trying to control him," she stated roundly.

I blinked at her. I hadn't thought about it that way. And, I'll be darned if she wasn't right!

"So," I said, "what should I do?"

To my surprise, she placed a chaste and friendly peck upon my check.

"You have a good heart, Bella," she said. "I am sure that you can figure it out."

I was slightly stunned for a moment.

"He has one too," I added, unthinkingly.

"Sure he does," she said. "When he uses it."

With a grin, she turned and walked away. I practically felt Edward behind me. It wasn't unsettling at all. I wondered if I leaned backwards, past the point of recovery, if he would be there to lean against or if he would just catch me. I felt somehow certain it would be one of the two, but I wasn't sure which. But then again, did it really matter?

"Dropping any eaves?" I asked with a grin.

"Alice is such a meddling-" he began.

"Hey," I said, looking him full in the face. To my surprise, he stopped and looked into my eyes.

Keeping my eyes on his face, I inspected him, each subtle shift and change that might come over him. Carefully, and in plain view, I raised a hand towards his face. He gave no indication that my well intentioned advancement would be ill-received. My fingertips just brushed his skin, and as they did so, his eyes locked on mine. Even as they skirted across his skin, my fingers heading for the depths of his hair, his gaze seemed to become less focused. For a moment I worried, but as soon as the emotion percolated through me, it seemed to rouse Edward back to attention in a way that made me think a lack of focus was good. An unfocused predator was not a successful one.

I settled my hand on his cheek, much as he had caressed mine earlier that day. His cool skin was soft and smooth. There was substance there that was undoubtedly Edward, and while it was animate and left him undiminished, there was a certain vitality that was not within him. I couldn't put my finger on it, but I could feel it.

"No heartbeat," he said, so that only I could hear.

It was a transcendent moment. He may not be able to read my mind, but he understood. We didn't have the sort of instant connection that Alice and I seemed to have, but somehow, our connection was stronger for having to be forged ourselves. He learned me, as I learned him.

I smiled, and his expression softened.

"It doesn't matter what Alice is," I said. "I am here. You are here. I have everything I want. I'm grateful."

A languorous smile spread across his face. He nestled into my hand, breathing deeply and stifling some emotion that flickered on his behind his eyes for a moment. In that moment, it didn't matter what it was. He would tell me when he was ready.

We walked together to the Volvo, arm in arm, my head leaning against his shoulder now and again, all thought of the dirt on his coat or control or strangeness out of our minds. Until we entered the car, at least.

"Finally," I said, as soon as the doors were shut.

"What?" he asked, that curiosity in his eyes again.

"I have been waiting to interrogate you all day," I said with a ring something like enthusiasm. "I haven't been able to speak plainly because we might be overheard."

He considered, "What do you want to ask me?"

First things first; "How is being a vampire different from being a human?"

He pressed his lips in thought as he started up the car. He wasn't nearly as quick to exit the parking lot, but I couldn't tell whether that was because there were other cars around or because he was less than eager to get me home.

"Firstly," he said, "I must ask a question of my own before I answer."

"Okay," I said.

"I don't want to part with you just yet," he said.

I felt myself blush and beam, but more beam than blush.

"That wasn't a question," I pointed out.

"Yes," he agreed, "but you see, the best pretense I have for not letting you leave would be to get you food. That would be a perfectly normal thing for a boyfriend to do, wouldn't it not?"

"I suppose," I said dubiously.

"However," he said, "making decisions is something that you enjoy doing, and though we already agreed that food is well with my purview to pay for, I wanted to ask if this is alright."

I laughed. I couldn't help it. I laughed even more at the confused look on his face, half shocked and half unsure. Reaching out, I took his hand resting on the gear shift, closer to me than to him.

"Edward," I said, feeling light, seemingly buoyed along on whatever Alice had left in her wake, "you can just ask me. I don't need to see that math."

He seemed confused, "I was asking."

I was about to explain, to show him that what he was really doing was trying to ask the question in the way to most likely have me answer the question in his favor. I inhaled, opened my mouth, and then turned. Standing next to a flashy red sports car several spaces away, was Alice. It was odd that I noticed her, what with the gaggle of boy standing about, staring at the car with drooling avarice. She stood in just the largest grab that could show her, still rather small, her eyes meeting mine with a little smile; a reminder.

And, I let the breath out of my lungs.

"You're right," I agreed. "Okay. Where is there to eat around here?"

I'm not sure if he was more confused or nonplussed. He offered up several suggestions, and then to his surprise, we went to a local burger joint. We walked in, ordered our food to-go, smiled and waved to a few kids from school, or, at least, I did, then we went back to the silver Volvo.

"I believe that this will be the first food eaten within this car," Edward commented with a smile.

I was instantly more self-conscious.

"I'll try not to spill anything," I said carefully.

"That is no problem," said Edward. "If you do, I'll simply buy another."

I gagged on my veggie burger a moment and managed to wave him off before he could do anything serious, like rip off the door and drag my out of the car to do the Heimlich or something.

Still, he looked mildly concerned as I quickly righted my own airways.

"You joke?" I asked, trying to clear my brain as well. "You're joking, right?"

"Of course," he said. "I am not so frivolous. Would you really think that of me?"

"I don't know," I said ardently. "Because, I don't really know you. That kind of why I am here, after all."

He watched me somewhat covertly as I carefully kept the wrapping between my burger and my hands, and between my burger and his car, taking small bites. At length I realizing that he wasn't really critiquing my way of eating so much as paying attention to me because he liked to and because he was looking for the right words to say at a time when I wouldn't risk choking again.

"Vampires are different from people in many, many ways," he said. "Please understand that I don't have a clear comparison, since my memories of that time in my life are magnitudes older than my human parents ever lived to be."

I put more burger in my mouth, as though to silence any words that might fight their way out, unbidden.

"As a vampire," he said, "I do not eat or drink, save for artifice. It is a bit like holding something wholly unappetizing in your mouth, only more so. It can't stay within us long and we must get rid of it as soon as we can."

I didn't ask how he did that.

"We don't breathe as such," he said, "save for scenting the air and to speak. I think the longest I have spent underwater was the better part of forty six hours, but I eventually got bored and returned to the beach."

It wasn't until a scrap of veggie burger fell onto my hand from my mouth that I realized I was gaping. I quickly nipped it back into my mouth and hid my face behind the burger as I took another bite. He was gracious enough to at least pretend he hadn't noticed.

"I am not sure how long we can go without sleep," he said, "but that is a metric I never had need to test. Rather than sleep eight hours a day, I sleep about eight minutes a week, usually at school."

He flashed me a devil-may-care smile, and my stomach did a series of backward handsprings, tumbling my burger with it.

"We are, essentially," he said, as carefree as his previous comment, "dead things."

There was a moment of silence.

"We are little more than animate corpses," he said went on, as though my lack of a negative response was cause to continue. "We have no life to speak of, so we all must pay for all manner of living function that your body normally handles naturally with our inhuman one."

"Hmm?" I asked around a mouthful.

With a suppressed smile, he darted a hand briefly between us, coming away with a smear of ketchup from the corner of my mouth. Embarrassed, I handed him a napkin and he wiped it away.

"My body does not heal," he said. "It does not repair itself. It is not warm. Its heart does not beat. It does not endure. Only one thing keeps this vessel in motion, allows me to recover from hurt, to persist, to be as I once was."

"Blood," I replied. He nodded.

"And only one thing strips us of that single power," he said.

I looked at him.

"Sun," he said.

I looked at him, "But I have seen you during the day a lot."

"Yes," he said, "But how much, really? How often in direct sunlight? At noon? Outdoors?"

He had a point.

"We can persist a while," he said. "It burns the blood out of us, makes us weak, old, mortal, takes what little activity we have, reposes us. We have to stay where there is little sun if we wish to be out at all in the day. Overcast days are best, with indirect light and the excuse to remain indoors as much as we can."

"Somewhere where there is a lot of rain?" I queried and he grinned.

"What is it like?" I asked.

"Hiding?" he asked in turn.

"Drinking," I countered.

He swallowed. All care and pleasantry drains from his face.

"Do you really wish to know it?" he asked, sounding distant, reserved and maybe even a little scared.

"All of you," I clarify. He gave a little nod of determination.

"I have little context," he said, "save for what I have gleaned from the minds of humans. But from what pale reflections I have seen in their minds, there really isn't a human activity that compares to it. It is the act of absorbing liquid life. It is like the most exquisite pleasure, the most satisfying satiation. Like humans, I suppose, wars have been fought for it, and vampires have died for it. It is the most powerful drive we have, save for one that most do not ever find."

I swallowed for a couple of different reasons, "Which is?"

"Love," he said simply. His eyes lingered long on me. Unwanted and undeniable hope spring up within me. Unwanted because there was still a part of me that believed this unbelievable dream would inevitably end, and undeniable because I found that with more and more time spent in it, I never wanted to wake again.

"But, as I said," he went on. "Most never find it. And still more are not capable of it. Blood is, I suppose, less complex, easier, quicker, in some ways more reliable."

I didn't like that idea. I didn't like it at all.

"Do you feel that way?" I asked.

I looked at me. As his eyes roved over my face, he seemed as though he might be searching for something.

"No," he said quietly, but surely. "At least, I believe that love is more powerful than the desire for blood. I am just not certain I am capable of love, or worthy of it."

"I am," I said. It was the only thing I could think of to say that wasn't arguing with him.

"Condemning me already?" he asked with a sly smile. I frowned at him, but I couldn't keep it up for long.

"I am not sure how capable of love I am either," I said. "But when it comes to you, it is sort of tougher."

He looked at me, "What do you mean?"

I shrugged, collecting my thoughts.

"Everyone is worth loving," I said. "But, I am not going to be egotistical enough to suggest that I am capable of loving anyone. There are some people who are just beyond my desire or ability to love. You…"

I felt my throat close at the very idea that he might not have love, and that he wasn't sure if he truly deserved it.

"You are the most worthy man I have ever known," I said. "To me, you are worthy of more than I think I can give, than I am capable of."

He looked suddenly horrified, so much so that I found myself wanting to look around and find the source of such distress. Surely, nothing I had said or done could have caused such abhorrence.

"Never say that!" he said, so loudly that I was worried someone might actually hear him. But my worry was swept quickly aside by how ardent his words struck me.

"You," he said, sounding a bit choked himself, "are the most compassionate woman I have ever encountered. You could give my adopted mother and father a run for their money, and they have had better than five hundred years in total to learn how to accept and care for those about them. Should you choose to love anyone, they would be blessed beyond reason. I do not deny that you believe I deserve it, but that doesn't mean I know how to accept it. I have been denying myself for so long…. I didn't want to believe that love was possible for me."

"Why?" I asked, still more abashed.

"Because," he said, looking away, "if I could be loved, how could I justify my own monstrousness?"

I finished off my burger, not sure what else to say for the moment. His eyes weren't on me, but then again, they didn't have to be.

"How do you see the world?" I asked.

He grinned, "You are very nearly as curious about me as I am about you."

He looked back at me, his eyes sharp and keen and the most gorgeous things I had ever seen, even black and covered as they were.

"I suppose," he said, "I see the world as you do, only more of it, more clearly. If you close your eyes, you still have a sense of the room around you. We have that as well, only our definition of the world is much more defined. I can sense the surrounding area by hearing, but I do it so well, it is almost like a form of echolocation, save that I don't need to be making the sounds myself to sense the world. I can smell a wider range of scents, as well as capture more information from less actual scent. By touch, I can tell wind direction and whether anything is moving around me, even in the dark, even from meters away. I can also feel heat with a greater degree of precision, to the point that I can tell directionality. I haven't tested it, but I believe vampire skin can sense the actual infrared radiation, not simply the excitation of air molecules. My sight is considerably better, allowing me to see nearly as well at night as humans do in the day. I also have a heightened proprioception, so I can sense where my limbs are and the placement of my body with a much more precise gauge."

I swallowed, "So, what do your senses tell you about me?"

He grinned a little, but there was something sad behind his eyes.

"I couldn't tell you much," he said. "What I know about you colors what I sense too much. I know you just ate. Your heartbeat is slower, your skin cooler in your extremities. It will be harder for you to enter…"

He stopped, looking away.

"What?" I asked, feeling concerned, "What is it?"

He seemed to collect himself, but poorly.

"I am truly sorry," he said. "I did something rather rude. I wanted to answer your question, wanted to be better than I am. But, it isn't very helpful to me to talk about that. You see, I… I don't want to think of you as prey. I have a hard enough time not doing that already."

"I'm sorry," I said, and he chuckled.

"Yes," he said teasingly, "because it is all your fault I'm a monster."

I frowned at him, but that only made him more amused, which made me less.

"Alright," I said, a tad grumpily. "It wasn't my fault and you're not a monster. Okay?"

"We have an accord," he said with a smile.

"Why are you so happy?" I asked, trying not to sound like a grouch.

"You're here," he said. "I have so many reasons to be happy because of that."

There was a short silence, not an uncomfortable one.

"Tell me what you are thinking," he said, the boyish eagerness of him the only thing from keeping the statement from sounding like a command.

"I don't know," I lied. I was thinking about his lips, the way they moved when he spoke. They seemed really soft, not too full, but not thin, not pouty or chapped. If I looked closely, I thought I could detect the faintest purple blue to the corners of his mouth, which was sort of pretty.

"Liar," he said carelessly, as though it truly didn't matter.

"Fine," I said. "I am not going to tell you what I am thinking."

"Why?" he asked, the question doing many interesting things to those lips.

"Too embarrassing," I said, shaking my head.

He considered, "What of commerce?"

"Huh?" I asked.

He grinned, "I will confer onto you something embarrassing in kind if you tell me this something you find embarrassing."

"Okay," I said. "Tell me."

He laughed, "You believe I will go back on my word?"

"No," I all but blurted.

He looked into me, those eyes like vast worlds, deep and full and glorious. I wasn't sure if he was entirely truthful when he said his compulsion didn't work on me.

"Some trust, please, Bella," he said. And I felt myself all but melt.

"I want to kiss you," I said. And promptly slapped my hand over my mouth and sat back in my seat, my face a color usually reserved for a bruised red delicious.

He looked amused, then fearful, pensive, then horrified, then tender, then sad, then bewildered, then nearly heartbroken.

"I'm sorry," I blurted, unable to get my clasped hands off of my face. "I'm so so sorry!"

I looked out the window, and wondered if I could get out and walk home without anyone seeing me. That was the sort of gossip I really didn't want.

Then, I felt his hand on my shoulder.

"Bella," he said, my name soft on his lips. I cast him a furtive glance.

"Vampires…" he said, his words failing him.

"We do not have the same drives you do," he said quietly.

"What does that mean?" I asked, sounding almost afraid for some reason.

He sighed, which made me stifle a tense giggle.

"Our blood doesn't flow," he said.

I wasn't following what he was saying. In my own fear, I looked at his face. Just that momentary sight, and I couldn't believe what I saw. Fear, shame, worry, doubt. It looked wholly wrong on him. Suddenly, I had no thought for my own fear. All I cared for was to take the fear from him.

"Edward," I said, my voice cajoling, consoling. "It's alright. You can tell me."

I'm not sure who reached for whom, but his cool hand was suddenly in mine.

"I guess I really don't trust, do I?" he asked rhetorically. Ironically, I still asked, "What does that mean?"

He chortled, "I really don't trust this. No. I guess I really don't trust you. It is interesting."

I tried really, really hard not to feel hurt. I managed it just long enough for him to go on.

"That is no reflection upon you," he said seriously. "I have spent my whole life believing that any happiness I might have will be ripped away from me. I believed that my penance for all the evilness in me was to never truly be happy. Every time I thought for a moment that it might be possible, I found only hollowness, followed by disillusionment. It turns out, all the chances I had for happiness before now weren't genuine. Because, I hadn't met someone like you yet. No; that isn't right either. It was because I hadn't met you yet."

He brushed the back of my hand with his thumb.

"I think it is time," he said, "that I actually trust you."

I felt a shiver go down my spine that had little to do with the cool tingles he was sending through my arm.

"We are dead things, vampires," he said. "As such, we don't partake in the life sustaining, life affirming activities that you humans do. Eating, drinking, growing, aging, as well as other more… amorous activities."

"Oh," I said, finally getting it.

He looked sad almost, "We can, after a fashion. That is to say, it is a bit like, say, having relations with someone outside of your orientation, yet without even the possibility of… release. It is possible, but not really desirous."

I nodded, looking down, "So, we'll never…"

He moved, and I turned to see him face me more in his seat.

"I don't really know," he said. "I suppose, there is a fair chance, should we become close… if it was something that you wanted… but, even so, I am having a hard enough time with the idea of simply kissing you. To be that close, that…"

I swore that I could see a bit of maroon show through his contact.

"Don't worry about it," I said, trying not to sound dejected. "I wouldn't want you to put yourself out. If kissing me is that… distasteful, I really couldn't-"

"Bella," he said, almost chidingly. "You misunderstand me…"

I couldn't look at him, even as he took my hand in both of his.

"This," he said, stroking my hand, which felt good enough that my eyes fluttered shut of their own accord.

"This," he said again, "this is vital to us as it is to you. Touch, embracing, the affirmation of another's existence through tactile sensation, that is just as meaningful to us as it is to you. A kiss, is just as powerful to us, maybe more so than it is to you. But, you see, that kiss… is naturally done between two vampires."

I understood. Kissing me would be hard, not because he was repulsed by me, but because he wanted to kill me. Which, naturally because my brain was stupid, meant I registered only one detail.

"You want to kiss me?" I asked, trying very hard not to sound hopeful. Or overjoyed.

He actually guffawed. He was all but rolling in his seat. I might have been a bit pink.

"Sweet Bella," he said. "Understand this; until I met you, I never once regretted what I am. I wondered what my life might have been had I never met Carlisle, even if I had never contracted the Spanish Influenza. I frequently hated myself and what I was, but I never regretted the necessity of it. My entire horrific, monstrous existence feels entirely justified, if only to have met you. But once I did, never had I desired to be human more strongly."

"Why?" I asked.

He snorted, which seemed sort of odd, coming from him.

"Bella," he said. "It would mean that I could hold your hand without risk to your safety. It would mean that I could be close to you, hold and have you, if you would have me, without wanting anything more than you. I would mean that I could kiss you, that my body could respond to yours, as it was intended to. It means we could have a life together."

"You got that from me," I said.

He looked taken aback, "Huh?"

It was my turn to guffaw, except mine was more like a braying mule. It was some time before I could stop giggling, caught between embarrassment and both definitions of hysterical.

"You are starting to sound like me," I said. "Snorting and picking up some of my words, I guess."

He smiled, "Am I?"

He seemed altogether pleased by this. I was too.

"But is it possible?" I asked.

"Is what possible?" he asked back.

"You kissing me?" I asked.

He looked unsure.

"It is," he said, "but it is very dangerous. If I were to hurt you…"

Again, the thrill of him being rough rippled through me.

"And stop that!" he chided.

"What?!" I retorted, sitting straight up in my seat.

He sighed, "It is distracting, when… you become aroused."

Well, nothing turns a girl off quite like having it pointed out.

"Yeah," I said vaguely, "I can't really… see, that might just be a little unavoidable."

He looked hard at me.

"Try," he said harshly, then added, "please."

I was very still, until he added, "It makes you smell like prey."

That sobered me right up.

"Okay," I said. I was even more determined than ever not to make this any harder for him that it already was. If I was good, did all the right things, there might be a kiss in my future. No! Stop that! Safe thoughts. Only safe thoughts.

"I…" he began, then folded, "I am sorry."

"Sorry?" I asked in disbelief. I think he had said that maybe three times to me, and never like that, as though he truly meant it.

"I am blaming you for my reactions," he said. "It is a bit like protesting the knife when I cuts yourself while cooking."

I frowned, "I'm not sure I follow."

"The knife is just a knife," he said. "The action could have been prevented by me, and even if it was not reasonably avoidable, my reaction is still up to me."

He looked at the remnants of my meal and seemed to take a slow breath.

"I should take you home," he said.

"No!" I protested, shocked by how loud my protest was.

He looked at me and smiled, "Do you want to risk your father asking why you aren't driving the truck?"

I looked at the time.

"We have time yet," I said, not wanting this to end on such a sour note. "I'll risk it."

He shook his head, "At least this is a simple risk."

"As opposed to sitting in the car with a vampire?" I asked.

He grinned, if a bit bashfully.

"I want to help," I said, finally voicing out loud what I had been thinking before.

"Help?" he asked, unsure.

"I am not just a knife," I said.

He considered that and smiled, "Of course you're not."

His cold fingers found mine, and something in me eased. All of that, all the worry and the risk and the craziness that was this… relationship, all of that fell away. He was here and I was here and somehow, I felt like we could do anything, together.

"Tell me something else," I said. He smiled.

"What?" I asked as he pulled the car into motion.

"You really have no idea how restrained I have been," he intoned, "now that we are truly talking. You have no idea how many times I have wanted to ask that question, all together, let alone today, and haven't."

"You ask then," I said, not wanting to monopolize the conversation.

He smiled, "You have asked first. I can be patient."

I smiled at him, playfully, "Oh?"

He laughed, "To a point."

I squeezed his hand.

"What would you like to know?" he asked.

I considered, "How do you become a vampire?"

I thought I heard something crack in the steering wheel. He turned and looked at me, and I wasn't sure what the expression on his face was. He didn't look exactly like he was thinking about killing me, more like he was being killed, as though he was terrified and angry in equal measure, and trying very, very hard not to direct that anger at me, with marginal success. It was thrilling to behold.

"You will never know that," he said.

It wasn't as though he was making a statement; it was more an edict, a law, an indelible fact that he would not and could not let come to pass. It scared him hugely.

"Okay," I said, my voice calm. It was the calm I think that did it, that shook him from his sudden frightful fury. He slowed the car to a stop, seeming to settle into himself, to relax purposefully, if not easily, by degrees, his eyes closing. At last, he opened them and seemed his usual self again, if quiet and a bit distant.

"I do humbly apologize for my rudeness," he said. "I was ill-prepared for that particular question. We should move along, I think, to another, if you don't mind."

I smiled, "I don't mind."

He looked so grateful, as though what I had done was a gift, rather than me simply being myself. I just couldn't really see how that would be so… valuable to him.

"What do you enjoy?" I asked.

"You," he said immediately, with almost no time for thought. I couldn't help but beam.

"No, but really," I said.

He considered.

"Of all my family," he said, "I am the only one without a partner, before now. And, other than my father and my brother Jasper, I am the oldest of us, though he didn't join our family until nearly sixty years ago. In that time, I have had no one to occupy my time as they have had, and as such, I have spent it… learning."

This was something, at least, that I could understand.

"I love to learn," I said. "There is just so much, and understanding and knowing… it is so…"

"Reassuring somehow," he agreed, and I nodded.

"I learned all that I could," he said. "I learned medicine, from Carlisle and from university. I have two degrees in medicine, to say nothing of my time studying alone. There really isn't a subject that I haven't studied upon at length, save for the more popular ones of the day. It will be some time before I fully understand the Internet the way you all do."

I laughed, "You are such an old man."

He laughed as well, if less loudly.

"I am," he said. "But if I had to put my finger on my most long loved passion, it would be… music."

"Music?" I asked. "How so?"

He turned to the CD player and pushed a few buttons, then, the car was suddenly filled with Piano Sonata number fourteen, third movement, by Beethoven. My eyes were suddenly riveted to him as his closed, him seeming to basque in the music, to let it occupy his entire being, as though there was nothing else in the world by the notes flowing about us. The emotion it inspired in him was playing about his face with abandon, and it took me a moment to notice his hands, now laid upon his thighs, were twitching and shifting ever so slightly, and I realized he was not only hearing the music, feeling it; he was playing it too.

The song seemed to take an eternity to finish, and no time at all. I wished that it could have gone on forever, for I felt as though I could have been happy to watch him be himself in that moment, raw and pure and unrestrained, and do so without end. And yet, I was glad that it was over, because that meant I could do what I wished.

Carefully, without fear yet slowly, I took his nearest hand. Drawing it up and to me, he turned as watched as I brought it to my lips and lightly kissed his knuckles. His skin was soft and though no life pulsed beneath the skin, there was something clean and pure about his skin. For all his talk of being a dead thing, there was something wholesome, vital about him.

He stared at me, his eyes wide, his expression rather undecipherable. His face pinched and relaxed and stretched in weird ways, almost as though it wasn't sure how to convey what he was feeling, almost as though he wasn't capable of it.

"Is this okay?" I asked, my lips almost brushing his skin as my breath did.

He nodded, as though incapable of forming words. He still didn't move, but it wasn't like his stillnesses before, when he was so motionless that he didn't seem real; it was almost as though he couldn't do or express what he wanted to do or express with the body he had.

"You…" he said. "What are you?"

I smiled, "Bella."

He was suddenly mobile again, his face splitting in a serene smile.

"Would that five letters could encapsulate all that you are!" he laughed. "The stars could slip from the heavens and find solace in the depth of your eyes. The moon could grace her countenances on your. The sky could swim about in your hair. And every rose petal on this earth could kiss their softness into your full lips. All of that and more could befall you, and still, you would not be half again as comely as you are to me now, sweet Bella."

I couldn't…. I just couldn't. The tears came, and I wanted so desperately to wipe them away, to not feel silly and weak. And strangely, I didn't. Even weepy and wet-faced in front of this, the epitome of beautiful boy, whose favor I begged the hardest, I felt unburdened by my feelings, and, for the first time in my life, I cried happy tears for myself.

One graced the edge of his finger, when still so close to my face, it had but to straighten to find its way into the path of a tear. His hand slipped from mine as he brought it to his eyes before he carefully tasted it. It was almost a reverent act as he did so, like the music, necessitating all his attention. Once he was finished, he returned his hand to mine.

"I feel lucky," I said.

He snorted, "I do as well."

It didn't take long for his expression to sour.

"What?" I asked.

He looked apologetic.

"I don't suppose I will ever get over what I am," he said. "What wouldn't I give to be able to be closer to you now!"

I unbuckled my seat belt.

"Bella," he said, wary worry in his voice and face.

"Don't move," I said, my eyes on his, focused and steady while his were nearly frantic. He obeyed.

I slid from my seat slowly, as slow as I dared without nearly toppling over, trying to support my weight on my hands while I shift my feet. I didn't come to sit in his lap, but only because I kept some distance between us. I leaned across the seat, my hip against his leg, mine still in my seat, mostly sitting on the parking brake. So settled, I pulled his closer arm around me as I leaned my head carefully down upon his chest. Still as he was, cool as he was, he was still so very gratifying to be that which I lead on, nestled into. I vaguely wondered what it would be like to lay upon him, cool and crisp as clean sheets, soft and yet firm beneath me, real and vital yet cool and capable of being inert.

Then, so slowly I wasn't sure of it at first, his other hand came up, finding my hair and gently brushing through it. It was… breathtaking.

I wanted to ask if this was alright, but instead, I let him say. I decided to trust him to speak up if this was too much, and he did not. I could have stayed there through the night, but after so much time, I wondered about my dad coming home, he stirred.

"Your dad?" he asked.

I tried not to laugh.

"You're getting good at that," I pointed out.

He smiled as I came back to my seat.

"That was…" he said, and I nodded, knowing too that words did it no justice.

"I don't know how I am going to do it," I said.

"Do what?" he asked.

"Go inside," I said. "Walk into my house. Go up to my room. Do my homework. Be that other Bella, that one that I am when I am away from you. It isn't that I can't or that I don't want to. It is more like, I don't know how to fit both together in me. How can I be just a normal girl and still be… I don't know; a part of something that seemed more like a dream than not."

He grinned, "You were never a normal girl."

I couldn't help but smile, "You were never a normal vampire."

He laughed.

"Getting out of this car is simple," he said. "You simply need to remember one thing."

I felt almost like a rebellious child, defiant and unwilling to give in so easily.

"And that is?" I asked, hoping my near petulance came off as endearing. If his expression was any indication, I absolutely was.

"We will have another day, just like this one, tomorrow," he said. "Only better, because we will know each other that much better than the day before."

When he put it like that, it didn't sound so utterly terrible…

"Will you pick me up again tomorrow?" I asked.

He smiled, "Gladly."

"Okay," I said. I gathered my bag, slipping outside. I was on the porch before I heard it.

"Oh, and Bella," he said, sounding like he had stuck his head out the window. I turned, to find that he was standing before me, so close that I couldn't make out much of anything around his shoulders. I looked up at his face, his almost smug expression.

"Don't move," he said. I tried my best.

He slipped his hand about the small of my back. I was having trouble not going weak in the knees, but he helped hold me. His other hand was in my hair again, and I was suddenly almost frightened at the prospect of this being it, of this being the moment he would kiss me. But as he tilted my head, I realized the angle was wrong. His forehead met mine, and I felt his cool skin on mine as a balm. He was not there more than a moment, but it felt like much, much longer.

"Thank you," he said. He disentangled himself, taking a step back, looking happier than I had ever seen him. I would have looked that way too, if I wasn't so thoroughly floored by him and near collapse. He grinned all the wider.

"Oh," he said, just before turning and slipping back to the car.

"Tomorrow," he said. "It is my turn to ask the questions…"

And like that, he was gone.


	12. Chapter 12: Complications

Walking into my house seemed like a dream. I couldn't think what to do. I was as though all concepts for what I should be doing, all habits and norms, just went out of my head, without protest. I mindlessly hung up my coat, slid off my shoes, paced sedately to the phone and grabbed it from its cradle, went upstairs, dropped my bag on my desk chair, set the phone on my night stand, and slumped onto my bed. I grabbed my pillow, hugging it to my chest, sort of curling about it, wrapping my legs about it too. There on my side, the most comfortable, quiet smile relaxed its way onto my face.

"Edward," I whispered. I could still smell him, his scent just lingering about me. He smelled like what Angels' should smell like, like everything I ever could have asked for. I didn't mind feeling swept away by him; this was the right kind of being swept away. He was amazing. He could see me and not only liked what he saw, he also believed that I was worth caring about. I knew he saw all the bad stuff too. And it wasn't even like he cared about me despite them. He just cared about me. The bad things weren't worth being concerned over. And I felt the same way. Sure, he was a vampire, but he might just be my vampire. What was this world we lived in where such things were even possible? How could I be so lucky?

I wasn't sure how long I laid there until the phone rang. I didn't even open my eyes and the smile didn't leave my lips as I answered, my words drawn out in a playful murmur, "Hi Jess."

"Finally," she said. "I called your house life thirty times! Why didn't you answer?!"

Her impatient tone was not enough to spoil my mood.

"I went to eat," I said. I didn't need to add "with Edward", she knew. Her vicarious sigh nearly the same as mine.

"Did he kiss you yet?" she asked, sounding impatient.

I shook my head, "No. I am not worried about it."

"What?" she blurted. "How can you not be worried about it?"

"Because," I said, "it really doesn't matter. I am already getting more than I deserve."

"You deserve kisses!" she said adamantly, and I could tell there was no more vicariousness in her.

"Well," I hedged, "yeah. Of course, we all do, but we aren't like, owed it, you know? It would be nice, but I am not simply guaranteed them. But what I am getting is so much more… more."

"What are you getting?" asked Jess, sounding thoughtful and curious.

I tried to think how to say it, since I couldn't exactly explain it directly.

"Relationships are hard for Edward," I said. "He believed for a long time that he would never be able to have one, that he didn't deserve one or to be happy."

"That's sad," said Jess, sounding a little too overbearing in her willingness to say so, but that was just her way.

"And wrong," I said, "but he has spent so much of his existence feeling that way, so it is sort of his default; alone and untrusting. Having any sort of serious relationship where he might be happy is hard for him."

She sighed, "One would think a little kissing might make it easier."

I smiled, "But, that's just it. It doesn't matter."

"What?" she asked, confused.

"No," I said, "I mean that it doesn't matter to him that it is hard. He is willing to be put out, and be inconvenienced and… uncomfortable, you know; out of his default. He's willing to do that, for me."

There was a moment of silence, which I think had to be a first for Jessica.

"I am good," I said. "I don't need kissing when I have that."

Then I thought about his lips.

"It would be nice," I said, the last word said with a bit of suggestion to it, "but I don't need it. He… he's worth it too."

Again, there was silence on the other end.

"Jess?" I asked, wondering if we got disconnected.

"I think I get it," she said, her voice a little brittle. "I sort of do and sort of don't, and I think that is the point."

"What?" I asked.

"I see it now," she said, "why he chose you, why he hasn't chosen anyone else before."

She meant why he hadn't chosen her.

"You do deserve it," she said, "deserve him."

I felt a little choked up.

"I think that is one of the nicest things anyone has said to me," I said, my own voice going a bit brittle.

"I'm so happy for you," she said. "I still want a gratuitous amount of details, if and when said kiss happens, but still. Happy for you."

I grinned, "And I will give you every last lascivious one."

I heard her huff through the phone.

"See," she said, "when I use big words, it's cute because I use words that everyone still knows!"

I laughed, "It means prurient."

"Now you're just making them up!" she said loudly.

"Salacious," I said, laughing.

She sighed heavily, so that I could hear.

"Libidinous," I said giggling.

"Now you are just making fun of me!" she said in mock anger.

"Orgiastic," I said.

"That one I got," she said. "It has an orgy in it."

I was giggling so hard, I almost fell out of bed. Our conversation devolved from there. I would have thought that we would talk about Mike, but Jess didn't seem to want to bring it up. I sort of got the impression that she didn't want to talk about it just then because she felt like she couldn't compete with Edward and I. That was perfectly alright with me. We caught up on gossip and I was sort of amazed that Lauren was still of the mind that Tyler was talking me to prom. I agreed with Jess that if she admitted being wrong, she would have to let go of this image of me juggling a bunch of guys with my harlot wiles, though she used different words. We both knew that Lauren would never do that unless she had no other choice. I admitted that I missed Angela and while I didn't admit to such, I decided that I was going to talk to Edward about the idea of sitting with my friends every once in a while.

Finally, dad got home, and I said bye to Jess and went downstairs.

"You haven't started dinner?" he asked as I walked into the kitchen.

"Hi to you too, dad," I said with just a touch of sarcasm.

"Right," he said. "Hi, Bella. How was school?"

"Good," I said. There was something in his tone, a sort of flatness. After a short pause he asked, "Are you going to make dinner or should I order a pizza?"

"I'll make dinner," I said, feeling dismayed. "Is everything alright?"

"Everything's good," he said, sounding like everything was definitely not good. "How are things with you?"

"Good," I said, pulling out chicken breast from the bottom shelf of the fig where I had set them to thaw the day before. If he wasn't going to tell me why he had a bug up his butt, I wasn't about to help him.

I made dinner, and Charlie didn't say a word. He ate in silence and I couldn't figure out what his problem was. Just as I was going up stairs after cleaning the dish, which he didn't protest and say he would do himself, I realized something; everyone knew that I was coming into town when I did, inexplicably. It was almost like they had a big town meeting and told everyone. Was it possible that the same thing had happened, only in reverse? Could he know about Edward, and be miffed that I hadn't told him? I didn't know, and I wasn't about to bring it up with him if I didn't have to. My plan was in place. I would tell him I was going to the dance after all on Friday, maybe Saturday. I would only bring up Edward if and when he asked if I had a date. Charlie was overprotective when I wasn't dating, even before I started dating a vampire.

I showered and dressed in comfortable pajama pants and an old T-shirt, realizing that I was getting comfortable here. I wasn't sure if I liked that or not. I did my homework, way later than I usually did, and I was just finishing up my books when motion caught my attention. I looked up and realized it was just my reflection in my bedroom window as I put my books away. I was staring at the window when something fitted itself back into my memory. Red eyes, eyes I knew now for certain belonged to Edward, looking back at me. I thought it had been a dream, but it was too real to be a dream. Now it very well could be real, was more than likely real. Not thinking about it, I went to the window and opened it. The night was cool and damp, but still nice and on the warmer side. I looked out into the night, wondering a long moment if he would simply appear out of the night before me.

"Edward?" I asked, almost hoping, but he didn't come. Pressing my lips to belie my disappointment, I closed the window, it sticking a bit before I went to bed.

I awoke the next morning, feeling refreshed and invigorated. I wished that I could see the front of my house from my window and could see if he was waiting for me already. I brushed my hair quickly, picked a button up blue blouse and a khaki skirt with white leggings. Without thinking about it, I tied my hair back and decided to wear my favorite pair of earrings, the first pair of small gold hoops my mom bought me for my first trip back to Forks with Charlie. I almost wished that I had a golden necklace that went with them. Maybe I might buy one if there was a spot in town that sold one that would match well. Maybe not.

I hurried, realizing that he was likely waiting for me now. I grabbed a banana and raced outside. I could tell he was there, and it took everything I had to turn around and lock the door before I turned and ran for the car. So hasty was I that I forgot entirely who I was and what befell me when I did such things as simply walking outside when it was damp. To my surprise, instead of launching myself face first into the soft grass and sliding on my face, I was caught up in his arms just before I heard his door slam. I was lifted entirely off the ground, my bag sliding off my shoulder, as he held me in the traditional carry that adorns a majority of romance novels.

"Hi," I said, equal parts thrilled and mortified. To my surprise, he didn't reply. He closed his eyes and became very still.

"Edward," I asked.

"A moment," he said, and his voice was very flat and slightly strained.

I shut up. After nearly a minute, I tried again.

"Are you alright?" I asked.

"I am more concerned about you at the moment," he said, and there was something about the timber of his voice, something familiar. I remembered it, from Tuesday night.

"What is it?" I asked calmly.

"I…" he said, his voice sounding strained again, "I am having trouble putting you down."

I thought about that, "You don't want to?"

"I…" he said, "I can't. I… I want to…"

I took a long slow breath. This was bad. Well, it wasn't too bad. Really bad might be if my skin was broken. This… I realized I could manage this.

"You can put me down," I said.

"I… can't…" he said, his words barely a whisper, almost a plea.

"Sure you can," I said, my voice not quite matter of fact. "You know how I know this?"

He was quiet for a moment, "How?"

He reached up, steadily, not suddenly, and touched the side of his jaw. Carefully, I turned his face towards mine. His eyes opened and he looked at me. I looked back, unafraid, and smiled.

"If you couldn't put me down," I said, "then you wouldn't have told me. You would have just had at me."

His eyes went flat a moment at my words, and I got the impression that he was thinking pretty seriously and graphically about actually tasting my blood. But then, I felt something ease in him, his shoulders dropping minutely but noticeable. Life seemed to flow back into his eyes.

"Thank you," he said. He tilted and put my feet on the ground, but, to my confusion and my satisfaction, he didn't let me go. He looked upward, drawing in a deep breath and letting it out, then returned his eyes to me. His hands were on my waist, and he was holding me to him, in a way that still gave us both plenty of space, but still so close that we were knocking knees and had to make room for each other's feet. I found that I quite liked it.

"Do you find this degree of liberty acceptable?" he asked. It took me a moment to realize exactly what he meant, and I nodded, trying not to add that he could touch me as much as he wanted. It took me a moment to get my own fantasies under control and I think he was more amused than annoyed by my human weakness.

"Sorry," I said, trying to actually feel sorry and coming up short.

"Please," he said, his smile finding its way all the way across his face and into his eyes. "After my rudeness, it is quite alright."

"Still," I said, "I shouldn't make this-"

He put his finger to my lips. It was very nearly the best way anyone had ever gotten me to stop talking.

"No self recriminations," he said. "What is done is done. There is no reason to worry about it. If you think you can or should do better next time, worry about that next time."

He took his finger away. For some reason, it made me want to pout.

"Okay," I said, almost smiling despite wishing he would touch my lips again… and I did a better job of keeping the fantasies from running a muck. Mostly…

He led me around to my door.

"What happened, anyway?" I asked.

"When?" he asked.

"How did you get out of the car so fast?" I asked.

"Oh," he said, smiling. "I was getting out anyway, to open your door for you. When you started to fall, I thought more for catching you than I did for preparing myself for being that close to you. I erred."

I thought about that as I took my seat and waited for him to find his.

"Okay," I said.

He looked at me as he started the car, "Okay?"

"I acknowledge that you made a mistake," I said.

"Meaning?" he asked as he pulled out.

"Meaning that I am not going to try to make excuses for you and belittle the fact that you are taking responsibility for said mistake," I explained. "I am just saying okay so you know I heard you and so we can move on."

I looked pointedly at him and he just looked back at me.

"No self recriminations," I practically commanded.

He laughed, "Yes, m'lady."

"Oh, don't do that," I complained.

"Why?" he asked, suddenly intrigued.

"Because," I said, "I am no lady, and…"

"Of course you are," he said. "And…"

I tried not to smile, "I might like it too much."

"Too much? Why?" he asked again, and he looked more present, more delighted than he had when he was listening to music.

I shook my head, but still answered, "I have a bit of a fancy for period pieces, especially Jane Austen. But reading the books and seeing the better movies, as much as I wish that I could call myself a lady, I know I couldn't hold a candle to many of the best characters in the stories I love."

"In what way?" he asked.

I felt sort of strange talking so much, but I went on.

"Take Elizabeth Bennet," I said. "She is proud and stubborn, to be sure, but she is also honest and speaks her mind shamelessly and fearlessly, without even the slightest consideration of repercussions and the expectations of her station. I don't think I could ever be like her."

To my surprise, Edward started to laugh. A lot.

"What?" I asked, then again, in annoyance, "What?!"

I was beginning to be concerned about his ability to keep the car on the road, but it never wavered as we turned and approached the school. Finally he subsided.

"God forbid," he said, his eyes dancing and his smile barely allowing him to get the words out, "you should encounter a rich young man, one who is proud and convinced he knows what the world is and that he knows best, constantly making mistakes out of his own arrogance and ignorance."

My mouth fell open.

"And let us say," he went on, "perhaps that rather than being cowed by his appearance and the regard everyone else around him gives to him, that you refuse to be treated poorly and fearlessly insist on honesty and constantly throw truth in his face with no regard for how it will shift the foundations of his world, until he has no choice but to be enamored by you."

I swallow, hoping that my mouth will remain closed after the fact. It doesn't.

"Then let us say," he went on, "that you prove the bravest creature he has ever known, insisting that it is possible to choose happiness and righteousness above all things, that good exists in everyone, no matter the state of their soul, and are so convinced of this that you are willing to risk your life to prove it."

My breath was ragged with emotion.

"How could I not call you a lady," he continued, "especially now that I know how you regard the term? Far be it from me to try and convince you that you are one. Your actions speak for themselves. If ever there were a person more worthy of the term, I know of them not."

Now it was trying to swallow back tears.

I didn't remember us parking, but as soon as someone passed the door, I realized where we were and that made it all too easy to get myself under control.

"I…" trying to sort out what to say.

"Thank you," I said, sliding my hand into his proffered one.

"The pleasure is mine," he said. "Shall we?"

We stepped out of the car, and immediately, I shivered.

"Where is your coat?" he asked, sounding concerned.

I turned to the car, then in the direction of my house.

"Oh," I said. "I guess…"

I felt rather sheepish.

"You forgot your coat?" he asked, his tone and expression questioning either my sanity or where I actually was, in fact, Bella.

"Sort of," I said mousily. "I guess I was focused on getting out the door."

He sighed, but smiled as he slipped the wool coat from his shoulders.

"No," I protested. "Then you'll be…"

He gave me an almost amused look, and I shut up, going a bit pink, which just made him laugh even more. I dropped my bag from my shoulders and found that it didn't touch the ground. He slid it onto one of his and then went back to holding open the coat. I slid my arms into each sleeve in turn. It was large on me, but no larger than my own coat. It was actually warm, which I realized he had done for me in the moments before taking it off. And, the best part, it was absolutely permeated with his delicious scent.

He shook his head, and something about his expression made me wonder.

"What is it?" I asked.

He smiled, "My sister. She picked out the coat."

I looked confused.

"Alice enjoys feeling smug," he said.

I sort of understood, sort of, but when I opened my mouth to ask, he shook his head.

"Not a chance," he said, and I looked confused.

He smiled, as though the world was his and all bad things had gone out of it.

"Today is my day," he said.

It really was his day. He walked me to every class, appearing outside after it was done to walk me to the next. He asked me every question I knew that he had been dying to ask me, maybe since I had first come here. I answered more questions between classes than were asked within them in total.

He asked all sorts of things. He asked me about my life back in Phoenix, about the few crushes that I did have and why I hadn't pursued them. He asked about my favorite pastimes and why I didn't have more. He asked about schools that I might like to go to for college, places that I would like to visit, activities that I might like to do if I had the time and money. He asked about friends, ones that I have now and had back in Phoenix. He asked about my mother, Charlie, and Phil, and my feelings about them. He asked about books I had read and the fewer movies I had watched and music I listened to, my thoughts on all of it. He asked me the most benign questions, about my preferences for food and colors and even articles of clothing or the contents of my drawers in my desk at home. That reminded me of my question, but when I tried to get it out at lunch, he flatly refused, and I decided to ask him about his appearance at my window at the end of the day.

And so it went, every detail of my life exposed and prodded, even things I felt so completely unimportant. And, should I give even the slightest hint that there was more to my response, a blush or a longer than average pause, a rise of the brow, a snort of laughter, a frown, a smile, a blink, anything, it would cause an entire new line of questioning, most of which I had to do as much rooting around in my head to find the answer as he was doing. I practically felt like an observer in my own life by the time we were walking out of the building towards the Volvo.

"How can you still have questions for me?" I asked after finishing telling him that I usually only got the cheapest white socks in a pack of six and never had any interest in novelty variety.

He opened his mouth and I snapped, mostly joking, "And don't you dare say that it is because I am interesting!"

He simply grinned.

"Bella," he said, placing his free hand on top of mine resting on his other arm. "I don't think my thirst for you in this regard could ever be truly sated."

I smiled, "Well, you have questioned me just this side of death and all…"

His grin took on a slightly worried tinge, "Have I been so horrible?"

"No," I finally admitted. "I'm just not used to being so…"

"Considered?" he asked.

"Sort of," I agreed. "But also, I feel sort of naked. Exposed."

"And that's my cue," said Jessica, stepping up beside us and taking my other arm.

"Good afternoon, Jessica," said Edward, his charming polite self. I was pleased my steps didn't waver at all. Jess was smart enough to look away this time.

"Good afternoon, Edward," she said in a nearly mocking imitation of his tone. "Can I borrow our girl for a moment?"

"Would that I could claim her, I still would not," he said sincerely. "She is wholly her own self and I prefer her as such."

Jessica looked confused and slightly impressed.

"Of course," he said with a smile.

He turned, stepping to just arms length from me. Crooking a finger, he tilted my face directly to his, looking me over with a deep, determined care, as though memorizing my face, as though having this moment and this one aspect of me to hold in his mind was everything he needed to be willing to step from my side. And step he did, heading for the car to go lean against it, looking more like a model than anyone should ever have a right to look.

It took me a moment to realize that Jess was just as lost in watching him as I was and hadn't even noticed that we had stood in silence for the better part of two minutes, just watching him as he cross the parking lot and posed himself, waiting for us to complete our business so I could return to him.

"Jess," I said to break her out of it.

"Oh!" she said. "Sorry! Why am I here again? Right!"

She looked down, then at me again, "Where did you get that coat?"

I just smiled and cast my eyes to him a moment.

"Right," she said. "Anyway, about Saturday…"

"Yes," I said.

"How are we going to do it?" she asked. "I mean, I will do your makeup at my place, but are you getting dressed there? Do you want me to come and get you and bring you back? What?"

I considered.

"I guess that I will come over to your place that afternoon," I said. "Edward can pick me up there, if you don't mind."

"But won't you have to come back for your truck?" she asked.

"Oh right," I said. "Well, don't worry about that. I will figure something out. What time should I come over?"

She considered.

"Are we going as a group?" she asked.

I thought about it, "I'm not sure how Mike would feel about that."

Her face fell a little, "He's a big boy. He can suck it up."

Something in her voice spoke of solidarity, as though she wasn't doing this to ogle Edward all night. She wanted to be there, with and for me. Without thinking about it, I hugged her.

"What was that for?" she asked.

"Because you're my friend and I sort of like you," I said with only the barest hint of sarcasm.

"This is like your first dance," she said. "On your first real date, where you get to get all dolled up. And you're going with this great guy and all. I don't want to miss that."

"And Mike?" I asked.

She smiled, "Mike will understand. Mostly because if he doesn't, I am going to put his nuts in a vice until he agrees."

"Jess!" I asked, blushing violently.

"Then, I am going to kiss in to within an inch of his life so he forgets all about that," she says. "The boy has put up with far less for the chance at a little play."

My blush continued and deepened, and I looked around to make sure we weren't overheard.

"Don't worry about getting me around," I finally said. "I will get myself too and from."

"Okay," she said. "Then we will get dinner before, if Edward doesn't mind."

"I don't think he will," I said, grinning.

"Alright," she said. "Then we'll have the boys head over to my place around, what, six?"

"That should work," I said.

"Cool," she said, "then come by before three."

I frowned, "It takes three hours to get ready?"

She nodded, confused, "At least. Why?"

I shook my head, "I don't know. I have never gotten all dolled up, I guess."

She grinned, "I can't wait. You are going to look amazing. Edward will be doing backflips!"

I smiled, "I'm sure that will be quite the sight to see."

She laughed, and squeezed my arm, "See you tomorrow, Just Bella."

I returned to Edward. He looked patient, if you didn't know him. He was still, mostly, but it was a stiff sort of motionlessness, as though it was all he could do not to walk towards me, even though he would just have to be walking back, just to be nearer to me sooner. At last I came up to him, and stood before him, my face directed towards his without his need to position me this time. He looked upon my face, and watched as all the agitation melted off his face and away. I sort of melted with it.

"Did you miss me?" I asked, only half seriously.

"Beyond words," he said. "I always miss you when you are gone, but I am used to not getting my way and the thought of our reunion is enough to keep me going in my time without you, so that I am not an entirely useless retch."

I couldn't tell how serious his words were. His smile afterwards didn't do much to convince me.

"Did you hear?" I asked.

His smile became a full blown grin. My sight dimmed at the edges.

"I am not sure which I prefer," he said, "you forgetting what I am or you knowing me so well that you understand me completely, even the otherworldly aspects of my nature."

"That's a yes?" I asked.

He nodded as he turned and opened my door for me.

"I believe that Mike will be rather put out with us for joining him on his date with Jessica," he said. "I am quite happy to oblige him."

I stopped halfway before sliding into the car, "Huh?"

He only smiled and waited for me to be all the way in before closing my door and going to his.

"I had nearly five full weeks of that infuriating boy making much of you," he said, "able to ask you questions at will while I could not. While I was trying to do the right thing, to stay away from you for your own safety, he was witlessly pursuing you with all his impotent impudence while I could do nothing but will myself not to backhand him across the room. I swear, that boy has died more deaths in my fantasies in the last months than breathes taken."

My mouth fell open, appalled.

He smiled grimly, "I told you, I am a monster."

I closed my mouth and shook my head, "No. I mean, yes, that is monstrous, but no. You were jealous of Mike?"

His mouth fell open. I didn't think I had ever seen him do that. Then, he laughed.

"I was, wasn't I?" he chortled. "For the love of all that is holy, I was jealous of him. How is it that you bring out so many of these emotions in me, these feelings that I have for so long thought were largely human?"

I smiled, "Because you are."

He smiled, "I think that is one of the nicest things anyone has said to me."

Something about that tickled in the back of my mind, and for some reason made me think of him at the window again.

"Were you at my window?" I asked.

Edward looked slightly unsure.

"Which window?" he asked.

I swallowed, suddenly unsure if I wanted to know the answer or not, "My bedroom window."

"When?" he asked.

I looked at him, closely.

"'When'?" I asked. "That's nice."

"I'm sorry?" he asked, looking unsure.

I rolled my eyes, "The only reason I would need to specify a time was if you were there on multiple occasions and aren't willing to admit to all of them. Have you ever been at my bedroom window?"

He sighed, "Yes."

Again, I swallowed, "More than once?"

He closed his eyes, "Yes."

I considered what my next question should be.

"Why?" I asked.

He took a deep breath.

"The first time," he said, sounding reluctant, "I was… I was there to see you, one last time."

"What!?" shot out of my mouth before I could think it over. His head whipped around, as though someone had grabbed his jaw and yanked it. I tried to relax, to regulate my breathing.

"You were going to leave?" I asked, a reproachful quiver in my voice.

"Yes," he said. "It was my intention to leave, before I got there."

"Why?" I asked.

"Because," he said, "staying was painful."

"Painful?" I asked, confused.

He looked as though he were going to sigh again, but then thought against it. Then he breathed carefully.

"That helps," he said.

"What helps?" I asked, even more confused.

"You… you're worrying about me," he said. "When you are more concerned with me than yourself, you smell different. Still good, but you don't smell… like… sustenance."

I considered what he was saying. Without thinking, I took his hand.

"Why was it painful?" I asked.

For a moment, he looked as though he was enduring unbelievable pain, like the time I was in the hospital in Phoenix for a possible concussion and a boy came in next to me with a compound fracture. He looked away and went still in that way that makes me wonder if he is even alive. When he spoke again, his words were quick, spilling out his lips, the only part of him that moved.

"I was rather amused, at first," said Edward, his words seeming to flutter as they passed, "watching you as all these boys came to you, wanting you in the way all selfish children want things when they are only thinking of themselves. I thought it funny, mostly because their dismay at being rejected by you brought me comfort. For all the time Mike had spent fantasizing about you, the timber of his thoughts upon you shooting him down was worth all the jealousy that I endured. With the other two, I simply felt relieved that you said no, for I too was selfish. If I could not have you, though I was not willing to be so frank with my desires, even to myself at the time, I didn't want any other to have you. I was happy that you said no to them. They didn't really care about you and didn't have your interests at heart at all. But as I thought about it, a new scenario played itself out. What if, one day, one did come along, the one who did care for you, who did take your interests to heart, the one who was good and deserving of your affections, the one who you would say yes too, who could stand with you in the sun, who was not this craven thing, this husk of a human, this soulless thing that I am."

I was about to interrupt, but his words were too quick, his manner too enthralling.

"I couldn't stand it," he said. "I can admit freely now that I was too selfish to consider you at that moment. Had I watched you find such a person, all I could have seen was you be with someone who could give you everything that I wished I could give you. I did not care for the fact that you might be happy. And that only convinced me further that being a part of your life was not right for me. So, I made the decision to leave you, to say my goodbyes. My fictional brother would die, and I would go to the funeral and afterwards would travel, seeking to do some soul searching, as some rich young men do under such conditions. And yet, I didn't think I had it in me to simply disappear, not without seeing you one last time. I didn't want to wait, fearing that if I did, I would lose my nerve. So, like the dastardly creature of the night that I am, I visited you, while you slept, without your permission."

He finally looked at me, sorrow and regret in his eyes.

"I had intended to tell you this," he said. "On Saturday. Some time during the course of the evening, I would have told you all of this and more. It is but a part of a larger story. Frankly, I found the idea of confession to you that night rather appealing, if a bit dramatic."

I couldn't help it.

"What's the rest of the story?" I asked.

He pressed his lips, "Would you be willing to trust me, Bella? I would tell you it all, but I want to do so then. It has a touch of the… romantic to it, which I find so very tempting. May I save the tale for Saturday, so that I may tell it to you in full?"

It was my turn to sigh. When he put it like that, I couldn't rightly say no. I wasn't exactly mad at him anymore.

"Okay," I said. "Just… maybe… don't visit me without my consent again."

He nodded, "Of course."

He suddenly smiled, and something about that smile I didn't trust.

"May I visit you at night?" he asked.

I froze.

"Why?" I asked.

He grinned, "I like being near you when you sleep."

"Why would-" I froze again, my eyes bugging wide.

"You didn't!" I said, aghast.

"I didn't what?" he asked.

I talk in my sleep. A lot. My mother thinks it's hilarious. I think it is embarrassing.

"Tell me!" I almost cried. "No! Don't tell me. Alright, what did I say?"

He smiled, and it was so beautiful, I felt like my heart was being put in a vice.

"You said a lot of things," he said.

"No!" I cried, hiding my face.

"Bella," he said, taking my hands from my face. His eyes met mine, and they were kindly.

"I know," he said. "I would have known even if I hadn't visited, even if I didn't know you say my name in your sleep quite regularly. That isn't what I learned that first night."

"What did you learn?" I asked, unable to help myself.

"You asked me to stay," he said. "I was going to leave, and you asked me to stay. At first I thought you were having a nightmare about me, but then you said to stay, for me not to go. But even without that, I know you dream of me."

I raised an eyebrow at him, "Oh?"

He settled back in his seat and said in a staggeringly good impression of me, the voice nearly identical, "Believe it or not, but my every dream isn't about you."

Once the words were out of his mouth, I slapped a hand over my open one.

"Oops," I said, and gave a nervous giggle.

He sighed, "I don't dream."

I looked over at him. He sounded almost sad about it.

"Sleep might be too shallow for us," he said. "Or it may be that we lack something that you do not, some vital part of yourself that we just don't have. But we don't really lose ourselves in sleep. We are not unaware, as you are. And we do not dream."

He looked at me, his eyes heartfelt and kind.

"Would that I could dream, I would of you," he said.

The vice was back. As was that thing, that moment when I wanted to do something, but I couldn't figure out what it was. It wasn't kissing him. I just didn't understand.

"What is it?" he asked.

I suddenly felt like a deer in the headlights.

"What's what?" I squeaked, and he could but smile.

"You are so very charming," he said.

I snorted, "You and I use that word very differently."

He smiled and began driving.

"You never did answer my question," he said.

"Which one?" I asked.

He smiled, "Do I have your permission to come visit you in the night?"

I shook my head noncommittally.

"Is that a no?" he asked.

"Maybe?" I said more than asked. "I don't…"

I sighed, "I am not sure if I trust you."

He took a moment of silence to digest that.

"Okay," he said.

I whipped around to look at him, "Okay?"

He smiled, "You don't have to trust me, Bella. I have done much that would warrant you not trusting me. And I do not say this so that you will, I say this because it is true. You get to say no. You get to say what is true, even if I might not like it. You are allowed to be imperfect."

I couldn't help but tease him.

"You don't think I'm perfect?" I said, sounding hurt.

He turned, looking truly horrified for a moment, until he saw my face and my poorly concealed smile, he tried to look disgusted and failed.

"You are not amusing," he said, his lips twitching towards a smile.

"I am very funny," I said, deadpan.

He smiled, "I will not visit you again, not until you are ready."

I thought about it, "Why do you want to visit me?"

He smiled, "At first, I liked listening to you. It was a way for me to have something, anything, listening to you. I hope that I might unlock whatever hidden secrets lie within your mind, since I could rightly ask you about them. Now, I don't need to do that because I can just ask you. Say, which is your preferred peanut butter?"

I laughed, "I like crunchy, but only occasionally. Mostly I like smooth, usually organic."

He grinned at me, "See? Now, I just…"

He pulled up at the house, "I just like feeling near to you. I… I don't ever enjoy being without you. I simply exist, eating up time for when I can see you again."

That was when I knew. I wasn't mad. I didn't like that he had come to my house without my permission and that he had done so on multiple occasions, but he was being honest about it and the only reason he hadn't told me sooner was for the romance of it. I couldn't hold that against him, even if I had wanted to. I was actually sort of flattered that I meant so much to him. But then I really thought about what he was saying.

"I can't be the most important thing in your life," I said.

He looked at me, "Meaning?"

I shook my head.

"I don't want to be that important," I said. "It's not that I don't think I deserve it. I really… I just don't want that responsibility, you know? I don't want to be the one think in your life that brings you joy, the thing that you are living for."

I sighed, "Edward…"

I took his hand.

"I want this to work," I said. "I want this to work more than anything I have ever wanted so far in my life. But, it might not. I mean, kids who get together at our age don't always stay together."

He squeezed my hand, "Like your parents."

I tried not to grimace.

"I don't want to be the one who ends up taking away your reason for happiness," I said, "if it comes to that."

He looked at me, and for a moment, I got the butterflies-in-my-stomach feeling that he might kiss me. He didn't. Instead, he pulled my hand to him and placed his forehead upon its back.

"Bella," he said. "I…"

He seemed to stop himself and smile.

"I expect nothing from you," he said. "Should this end, should you ever decide that you no longer wish me at your side, I will gladly leave, especially knowing that you will never do so because of what I am."

I was about to say that I never would, but then I realized I only wanted to want him to never leave. We both knew, there was a line he couldn't cross, and I would not insult him by bringing it up again needlessly.

"It will only be because of my actions, not my being," he said, "and I can very much respect that."

"I don't want that," I agreed. "But, should it be necessary, I will."

He bowed his head, "I don't want it to be a necessity, but I will go if you ask."

He still had my hand, and I brought it back, still holding his, turning our hands to bring the back of his to bare, resting my head upon his as he had mine.

"Saturday," I said.

He nodded, somehow understanding.

"I will leave the window unlocked," I said and he looked shocked.

"You…" he started and stopped, "you would invite me in?"

"Yes," I said. "Saturday, after the dance, if you would like…"

Something seemed to hang in the air between us, almost like there was a cord between us that someone had just pulled a bow across, leaving it singing. So, naturally, that was when everything came crashing down.

Edward's head came up and I couldn't be sure, but I thought I heard him swear.

"That is all I need," he said.

"What?" I asked, looking for the cruiser to pull up.

"A complication," he said. "I have to go."

"What?" I cried. "Why?"

"Please, Bella," he said. "I shouldn't be here."

"Alright," I said, collecting my bag and reluctantly taking off his coat.

"I will be here tomorrow morning," he said before I could ask.

I got out. He pulled out and only then, as his car moved between us in passing, did I notice the car that had pulled up across the street, old, maroon, and unfamiliar. The people in it were not.

I waited patiently as Jacob opened the back and pulled out his father's wheelchair. He flipped it open expertly, a rather impressive display. Skinny as he was, he had no problem lifting his father from the passenger seat as suddenly the cruiser rounded the corner. What was dad doing home so early?

I stepped aside so he had somewhere to park as Jake walked up beside his dad, who was pushing his wheels around himself.

"Hey, guys," I said smiling, something about this familiar, though I had no memory of it.

"Hey, Bella," said Billy. "You got big."

Jacob laughed, though he tried to hide it behind a smile.

"Relatively speaking," I said, giving him a pointed look. " I'm just glad I'm not some spindly beanstalk at least."

"Oh!" said Jake in mock distress. "It hurts! So painful!"

"Shut up!" I complained, smiling in spite of myself.

Charlie walked up, "Am I going to have to pretend I didn't know you were driving, Jake?"

Jacob put on the most unconvincing innocent face I had ever seen. It was hard not to laugh.

"How do you know I was driving?" he asked.

Charlie sighed, "I suppose your father was driving from the passenger seat? In a car I know for a fact isn't retrofitted so he can drive it?"

Jacob turned the innocent look on full, which only made him look comically scared.

"We get our licenses early on the res?" he asked, in a tone that was obvious they both knew he was lying and that Charlie would do nothing about it.

He sighed, "I'm off duty…"

Jacob beamed, "Thank you, sir."

"Are you staying for dinner?" I asked.

Billy looked a little sheepish, "We wouldn't want to impose…"

"It's alright with me," I said. The current Black family didn't look altogether happy about this.

Charlie sighed again, "She would be doing the cooking."

"Oh!" said Jacob as they both relaxed. "Then that fine then."

I unlocked the door as Jake and Charlie lifted the chair and Billy as one and stepped him up the porch, like they had been doing it all my life.

"Game tonight?" asked Billy.

"Yeah," said Charlie and immediately lost me as he started talking about things which I had no reference to. I went immediately to the kitchen. Jacob followed. I was pulling out stuff for a vegetarian meatloaf and a medium amount of mashed potatoes when I noticed the look Jake was giving me.

"What?" I asked, feeling a bit uneasy.

He gave a sort of exhale laugh thing.

"So the game goes on," he said, "and you escape to the kitchen. You're like a walking cliché, you know that, right?"

My mouth fell open.

"Do you really want to piss off the person making your dinner?" I asked.

He smirked, "What are you going to do?"

"Not give you mash potatoes," I said.

He actually came up short. To my shock, he actually got down on his knees, making him almost my height exactly.

"My deepest apologies," he said, so sincerely, I wasn't sure if he was still joking or not.

"Oh get up!" I said, trying not to smile.

He moved to the counter, hopping upon it. It actually made him shorter. I felt like a dwarf.

"So," he said, "what's wrong with the truck?"

I looked quizzically at him, "Nothing. Why?"

"You weren't driving it," he said. "That is usually why you don't drive it."

I looked away.

"I had a ride," I said, sure my voice sounded flat.

"Nice ride," he said, and there was something about his voice.

I looked at him, seeing something like longing on his face before it was quickly hidden.

"You like cars?" I more reaffirmed than asked.

"Yeah," he said quickly, almost like he was changing the subject. "I am putting together a Volkswagen Rabbit."

I bit my lip as I began dicing vegetables, "Is that a good car?"

He smiled, "Yep. Great car, one of the best, just a step down from a Porsche. Way better than some old Volvo."

I gave him a look, "So, you think that is enough to get a girl? Have a fancy car?"

He looked at me, his surprise giving way to seriousness, "I don't know. Is it?"

I rolled my eyes, "Of course not."

"Really," he said, interested. "So, what does it take?"

I looked over at him, "Really?"

"What?" he asked.

I huffed, "I am not going to play that game with you."

"What game?" he said.

He looked directly at him, "The one where I give you a list of requirements to date me and then you either think I am being unreasonable or try to fulfill them in an effort to force me to a date with you. It's trite and pointless, seeing as I already have a-"

I came up short. I wasn't thinking. Charlie might be listening. Then I noticed Jacob isn't looking at my face, and I realized I have been gesturing rather emphatically with a knife in my hand.

"Sorry," I said, putting it down.

"A what?" he asked, leaning in and quieting down.

I glanced at the living room.

"Nothing," I said, "never mind."

"Oh come on, Bella," he said imploringly. "I can keep a secret."

My eyes meet his. They are warm and dark, entirely different from Edwards black pools, but nice and sort of comforting.

"A boyfriend," I whispered.

He straightened, "Already?"

I gave him a hurt look.

"No," he said, "I didn't mean it like that. I just mean…"

He sort of looked down, "I guess I was disappointed. That's all. I…"

He looked at me, "I thought I might have more time."

"To?" I asked, going back to cutting up an onion.

"Ask you out myself," he said.

The blade sliced neatly into my finger.

"Ow!" I cried, hearing something clatter against the back door.

"Bella?" called Charlie, but I was looking outside. I couldn't see anything. I look down and see my finger covered in blood.

"Darn it," I said, rinsing my finger. It wasn't deep. Butterfly band aids would do for it.

"'Darn it'?" asked Jacob. "Really?"

"Shut up!" I said, getting paper towels to stem the bleeding while I began digging around for the first aid box. It wasn't like this was the first time I had cut myself while I was here.

"Bella?" Charlie said again, this time from the door.

"I'm fine, Dad," I said, as always.

He didn't even bother looking concerned anymore, walking back to the living room.

"That was entirely your fault," I said. He shook his head.

"Sure, sure," he said, "because I was holding the knife."

"You shouldn't distract people when they are doing dangerous things!" I complained. He just smirked again.

"You are really okay, though, right?" he asked, looking sheepish, finally.

"Yeah," I said. "If I'm in jeopardy of going to the emergency room, it's just means its another day that ends in 'y'."

He looked at me with an expression of serious concern.

"Really?" he asked. "You get hurt that often?"

I gave a delicate snort, more of a forceful exhale through the nose.

"I'm exaggerating," I said. "But if you look up the word klutz in the dictionary-"

"There will be a picture of you?" he asked.

I grinned, "No, just a very apt description."

He waved the joke away with a mock groan.

"So," he asked, "why don't you want your dad to know?"

I didn't need to ask him what he was referring to.

"Please," I said, "if you had a girlfriend, would-"

I stopped.

"Never mind," I said quickly.

He smiled, if a bit sadly.

"Yeah," he said. "I would. But granted, I would like to tell her just about anything and everything. It's okay; I can talk about her."

I looked at him sideways, "How the heck did you do that?"

He barked a laugh, "Really, we are going to have to talk about your language problem at some point."

"No, really," I said. "How did you do that?"

He shrugged, "Do what? It was obvious what you were going to say. It was practically stamped across your forehead."

I went pink and went back to cooking.

"What?" he asked, looking concerned.

"Nothing," I said, "it's just… I'm not used to people being able to read my like that. Usually, only my mom does that."

He grinned, "I've got your number, Swan girl. You can never lie to me now."

I tsked, "Want a bet?"

He considered shrewdly.

"Two truths and a lie?" he asked.

"What's that?" I asked.

He looked like I had just started speaking in tongues.

"It's a game," he said.

"How do you play?" I asked.

Now, he was looking at me like I was purposefully being difficult.

Then I smiled.

He looked shocked, then grinned too, "Okay, you're good. I'll give you that."

"I'm awesome," I said.

"Does your boyfriend think so?" he asked, his tone more inquisitive than disapproving.

It took effort not to slap my hand over his mouth.

"Will you slap your yap!?" I said in a hushed whisper.

"They can't hear us," he said. "The game started already."

I shook my head, "Okay, whatever."

"Does he?" he asked.

I felt a slightly sappy look cross my face, and I nodded.

"Yeah," I said, "he kinda does."

Jacob looked… not quite disappointed. More like, he missed out on something he really wanted, but didn't really care if he didn't get. It was weird. It didn't feel anything like when Mike or Eric showed any interest. It was… I didn't know.

"How about this," he said. "If he ever turns into the world's biggest idiot and dumps you, or he turns into the world's biggest idiot and you dump him, I'll take you out. My treat. And by my treat and I'll take you out, I mean we can pig out on junk food at my place. I guarantee subpar movies and warm generic soda. Who can resist that?"

I laughed, despite myself.

"I don't see that happening," I said.

"Okay," he said, "nearly adequate movies and room temperature soda, but that is the best I can do."

I shook my head, "No, I mean, I don't see us breaking up."

He looked skeptical, "What? Are you going to marry the guy, is that it?"

I looked suddenly stricken.

"Oh, god no!" I said, and something about my tone made him grin.

I went back to mixing.

"I just mean," I clarified, "I am not diving into anything. Marriage is like the furthest thing from my mind."

He looked approving.

"Good," he said. "It is a good idea to play the field. Who knows? You might find you like someone else."

It was my turn to look skeptical.

"Oh come on," he said. "You can't have known this guy very well. How long have you been dating?"

I thought about it. The answer didn't make any sense for a moment. It felt like it had been longer.

"Officially, since yesterday, I guess," I said.

He seemed to jump at that, "See! That is nothing. How long have you known me?"

I thought about that. Yeah, I really had known Jacob most of my life, if not well. It was undeniable, I felt comfortable with him, far more than any of the normal boys from school. We could easily be good friends. He was nice.

Then, something fitted itself into my head. Edward, smiling, but sad, seeing Jacob standing beside me. Jacob, putting a hand to my back, not in possession, but in comfort, in support. And Edward, knowing that I would be happy with him, not wanting to get in the way, turning and disappearing into shadow-

THUNK!

"Ow!" I said, grabbing my knee.

"What happened!?" cried Jacob.

"Ow!" I said, again, clutching my knee and nearly falling.

"What happened?!" cried Dad, Billy just behind him.

"Oh, ow," I said, limping to the freezer and pulling out a tray of ice cubes.

"What?" asked Dad again.

"Nothing," I said, "No, it's nothing. I… I had a muscle cramp and it surprised me and I jumped and knocked my knee into the cabinet door."

There was no way I was going to say that I started trying to run after Edward in my head before I could stop myself and slammed my knee.

The adults left, and Jacob shook his head.

"You're such a bad liar," he said, picking up one of the potatoes and started peeling it.

I put the cubes in a towel and thumped it a few times on the counter to break up the pieces, then iced my knee.

"Yeah, well," I said, feeling a little disgruntled, "you are no peach yourself."

He laughed, "I'm not a what now?"

I quieted my voice, "A nice guy wouldn't move in on someone else's girlfriend."

He looked at me sideways, finishing up the potato and moving to the next.

"First of all," he said, "You are way more than just some guy's girlfriend, so don't even act like you're not. Second, I'm not moving in on anyone; I said true things and reminded you that when the inevitable break up comes-"

"Inevitable!" I shot back, then shushed myself.

"Yeah," he said. "Inevitable. If you aren't going to marry the guy, what else were you planning on doing?"

He brought up a very interesting point that I hadn't considered. What would a future with Edward be like? Did vampires get married? What would happen if we did? He would never age, but I would. What would I be willing to give up to stay with him? Would he accept that?

"I never said I wouldn't marry him," I said. "I just meant, I hadn't thought about it and I wasn't planning on thinking about it any time soon."

"Whatever," said Jacob. "When the possible and still more than likely breakup comes, you still have people who care about you, who are happy that you exist and are here for you. Your life isn't over just because a relationship fails."

I took a deep breath, and laughed in his face.

"I know that!" I expounded. "Jeez, you think I am some flighty thing who dives headlong into something, losing herself completely. Dream on!"

He bowed his head, and held up a hand.

"Okay," he said. "Yeah, that was a little insulting. It is just a trend that I have noticed with a lot of the girls I have seen who have broken up with their boyfriends on the res. Should have known that wouldn't apply to you."

My brow furrowed, "Why should you have known?"

He finished the second potato and moved on to the next.

"Because," he said, "you aren't like other girls."

I bobbed my head at that, "Tell me about it."

Apparently, he thought I meant that literally.

"You aren't all obsessed with looks," he said, "and I bet more than a few girls hate you because you really don't, not just say you don't, and still look really good."

Suddenly, a big neon sign in my head started blinking "Lauren!" over and over again.

"You are like one of the most social nonsocial people I know," he said, "which tells me that you don't need friends the way most people do, to fit in and be accepted and part of the crowd. You do it if and when it makes you happy and for the benefit of your friends, not just you."

I thought about the beach trip. I hadn't gone to impress anyone. I had gone because I wanted to go. I had supported Jess and even talked some with Mike once I knew that I wasn't stepping on Jess' proverbial toes, because it made him happier.

"You are wise beyond your years," he said, "but still totally accessible and imperfect the way a person should be. You are a mess, but still have your life together in all the ways that matter."

I didn't think I had ever heard a more apt description of me in my life.

"You believe in justice and equality," he said, "even when it is hard. And you have always had a good heart."

He wasn't looking at me. He was peeling potatoes. It didn't matter to him what his words were doing to me, what my reaction was; he was, again, just telling me the truth. I felt my throat catch a little. So, naturally, I walked up and touched his arm with the wet, cold towel full of ice.

He said something that might have been a swear word, but I wasn't sure it was in English. He jerked away, and since he wasn't me, he wasn't bleeding because he had a knife in his hand or anything. He looked at me with disbelief, until he saw me smiling and laughed too.

"I'm going to get you back for that," he said.

I smiled, "You do that."

We got dinner cooked and on the table without much fuss after that. We chatted about school and our social circles. I wondered if I would be meeting his friends Quil and Embry any time soon. I was plating food when the dads decided to join us. Jacob asked how the game was going and more sport speak was bandied about. I sat and ate, feeling a bit left out until Jacob commented that the food was good, and the other two sang my praises, but in a way that I could tell they noticed I was being left out of the conversation and wanted to include me and not necessarily because they thought the food was any good.

"So, Bella," said Billy, "any plans this weekend?"

I almost didn't catch the quick reproachful look Charlie gave him.

"I am planning to go to Seattle," I said, keeping up the falsehood.

Billy considered.

"I heard something about a dance this Saturday," he said. "Why don't you go? I'm sure Jacob would love-"

"-would love it if you minded your own business, old man," Jacob said with no undue exasperation.

Smiling, I shook my head, "I don't really dance. Public displays of mortification aren't high on my to-do list."

Jacob smiled, "Dances are fun, and contrary to their name, aren't about the dancing."

I looked at him, as though evaluating.

"How many dances have you been to?" I asked.

"All of them," he said, "even a couple that weren't at my school. Granted, I don't mind dancing, but that isn't why I go."

I thought about it, not sure if I could figure it out.

"Why do you go?" I asked.

"Because," he said, "it isn't about me. It is about them. People. Friends you see every day, who have a reason to put an effort in. They get to get together without school looming over 'em, not even needing to be friends, dressing nice and talking and enjoying just being together. It is about connections, and I am not just talking about the couples thing. We get to be ourselves in a way that we almost never do at school and connect with people in a way that we can't when we are worrying about homework and late bells and right answers. It is an excuse to get all dressed up so we can let our hair down, so to speak."

The way he said it didn't sound all that bad. It actually sounded kind of nice. Plus, I could sort of see it better. I actually couldn't wait to gush over how nice my friends looked, and I didn't even want to think of what Edward might look like in a tux, since I probably would choke and die and never actually get a chance to see it. Still, as nice as it sounded, I couldn't give the game up.

"Maybe another time," I said. I was a little surprised that Jacob didn't seem at all disappointed.

"Cool," he said, "just let me know if you change your mind. I bet you would look amazing in a halfway decent dress."

Charlie got this expression like he wanted to agree but also wanted to tell Jacob to never say anything like that again. Billy chuckled.

"If you say so," I said dismissively.

After that, the evening wound down. The dads went back to watch the end of the game, and Jacob barely let me help as he cleaned dishes. I pretty much only put leftovers away and dried a few things as he did a pretty good job at the chore. Then I realized he probably did most if not all of the dish washing and felt like a creep.

"Don't do that," he said.

"What?" I asked, surprised.

"You had a thought that you did something wrong," he said. "It isn't worth beating yourself up over it."

"How do you do that?!" I all but cried.

He grinned, "I'm awesome."

I smiled.

"It's okay," he said. "You can say it. I won't get a big head or nothing."

"Not any bigger, anyway," I mocked, and he clutched his chest in mock offense.

He finished up the dishes and put the towel over his shoulder. He looked nice like that, sort of domestic and comfortable with it. He was the kind of guy who felt at home and was useful in the kitchen. Something felt warm in me and made me keep smiling, which was at odds with his suddenly serious expression.

"I was serious though," he said, leaning against the counter and putting his hands in his pockets. "About the post break up thing. I am not trying to break you guys up or anything, but really. I care about you Bella. I just want to see you be happy."

"Thanks, Jake," I said. "I appreciate that."

"So," he said, his words still lower than the sound of the game, "who is this boyfriend of yours?"

I bit my lip, "Edward Cullen."

Jacob slapped a hand over his mouth, from the expression I could make out from around it, he was trying really hard not to laugh. I was tempted to add my hand to his and settled for thumping him a few times to get him to shut up, which, of course, only made him laugh longer and harder.

"Well," he said after he subsided, "that explains my dad."

"What about your dad?" I asked.

"The trying-to-get-you-to-go-to-the-dance-with-me thing," he said. "I may not be trying to break you up, but Dad wouldn't mind if you never spoke to the guy again."

It suddenly occurred to me that not everyone in the reservation thought that the legends were fiction. I was very tempted to spend the rest of the evening in the presence of the dads to make sure nothing passed between them, but I couldn't be sure that it hadn't already and there was pretty much no way to make that seem natural.

"So," said Jacob, "looks like the competition is pretty steep. Good. I like a challenge."

I frowned at him, "I thought that you weren't trying to break us up."

He smiled, "I'm not. I will be the perfect gentlemen, and if you decide that you would rather be with me than him, that isn't my fault."

Smiling, I shook my head.

"Go on ahead," I said. "But really, I don't see that happening."

"Sure, sure," he said, throwing the dish towel at me. I barely caught it, only because it hit me first and just fell into my hand. I think that was what he meant to happen.

"Ready to go, Jake?" asked Billy, wheeling in.

"Just about," he said, and we started moving towards the door.

"Come for a visit," said Jacob, "any time you like."

"Alright," I said, feeling more than a bit self-conscious with the dads there.

"Bye, Bella," said Billy.

"Bye," I said, making it for both of them. Dad and Jake got Billy down and they headed off after Charlie said his farewell as well.

I walked back to the kitchen and dropped off the towel that I found I was still holding. Charlie followed me. I turned to find him leaning against the door, looking down. Something about the way he held himself made me think of the boys at school. He looked younger somehow, sort of sullen.

"I have homework," I said, heading towards the stairs.

"I'm not an idiot, you know," he said.

My foot paused in mid-step, right until I lost my balance and nearly fell. I turned back to Charlie.

"What are you talking about?" I asked, genuinely unsure.

"I know you have been lying to me," he said, crossing his arms and looking cross.

Well, crap.

"About what?" I asked, trying to align my thoughts. He looked at me like I was being insulting. Before I could think what to do, he turned and walked into the living room. I couldn't help but follow him. He turned off the television, and I don't know how, but I knew this was him preparing to retire to his room.

"Dad," I beseeched him.

He whipped around, "No, Bella. I am your father. You don't just get to live here and behave like I am a convenient roommate. I deserve your respect and your honesty. Until you are willing to give it, you are grounded."

"What!" I cried, truly dismayed. "You can't-"

He wheeled back towards me, and for all that he had said, I was shocked by just how completely unangry he looked. He looked hurt and sad. I would have preferred a shouting match.

"You are allowed out of the house for school only," he said. "Homework is to be done here. If you plan on studying with someone, they are only allowed in the house while I am here. Other than that, no guests, no going anywhere aside from prearranged grocery trips. If you get bored, I can assign you chores."

I felt the prick of angry tears. But I wasn't stupid enough to have them focused at him.

"You brought this upon yourself," he said, and he was right. Everything he was saying I did, I had done. This was all on me. The problem was, I really wanted to go to the dance. With all the time I had put into resisting, once I had asked Edward, I had never considered that I wouldn't get to go. Now, really thinking about it, I felt nearly desperate to go. And now, I couldn't.

"Good night," he said, and went to his room. I was tempted to grab his arm, to protest, to make excuses, but that wouldn't do. I watched, tears being to brim, as his door closed.

I went upstairs, my motions slow, the world around me dreamlike. I walked into my room, carrying my school bag. I set it down, right next to the bag that had had my dress in it, now hung in my closet. Only then did I remember finding that bag on the stairs, put there by Charlie. I was an idiot.

I did my homework, which, lucky for me, was mostly problems. If it had been reading, I didn't think I would have gotten through a single paragraph. Finally, I packed up my books. As I did so, a piece of paper crunched in my bag, which was weird because I never kept loose paper in it. I pulled it out. It was folded over, with a phone number and Jacob written on it. It made me smile and shake my head.

Showering quickly, I went to bed, though I stayed up far longer than I would have liked. In the end, I drifted off, still not sure what I was going to tell Edward.


	13. Chapter 13: Balancing

I got up, hoping that the morning wouldn't feel as bleak as I did. I was mostly right, though the lack of sun really did make things look gray, for the moment. I put on a tan halter top over a black button-up, over a pair of jean shorts over dark leggings. I felt warm at least, even if the morning was a bit more chill than it had been the last few days.

I got my things and headed outside, finding the Volvo the most welcoming sight it had been since it had started arriving every morning. But, as I opened the door, I realized something was wrong; I was opening the door. This was the first time that I could remember doing that; it was the first time I had ever opened this door this way instead of Edward. Something was different. Something was wrong.

I slid into the car, finding him behind the wheel, his hands at ten and two, stuffed into gloves. I thought about it and remembered the only other time I had seen him wearing gloves; that first day that he had decided to talk to me. Somehow, this felt like a step back, a step backwards.

"Good morning," he said, his eyes out the front of the car, not looking at me. Something was really, really wrong.

I realized; he knew.

"I'm sorry," I said dejectedly.

His head whipped around, as though he had been struck or otherwise blindsided and was looking for the cause. His eyes found mine, surprise and disconcertment in them.

"Why?" he asked, distressed. "What could you have possibly done to deserve that tone?"

I felt the prick of tears from nowhere.

"I…" I tried to speak, but my voice caught.

He took my hand, only to hiss and pull his hand back, as though in pain.

"Edward," I nearly cried in concern.

"No," he said. "It is nothing."

I grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand towards me. I knew he could have resisted, but he didn't seem capable. I held his hand before me, and carefully removed his glove.

His hand was… I couldn't tell. Burned, maybe. His skin didn't really have the same red flush or angry look to it that mine would, but it was pocked and blistered, damaged, as one might be after contact with extreme temperature, which is to say energy.

"What happened?" I asked.

He looked disgusted.

"You cut your finger," he said.

I didn't make sense of it, mostly because he said it like an explanation, not a deflection.

"How did me cutting my finger cause this?" I asked.

He sighed, "Because I tried to get to you to help."

Something connected itself in my head. The clatter that I had heard, that had caught my attention, that had pushed itself into my consciousness so that it interested me more than seeking relief from pain and injury I had caused. It had been him, at my back door, which made perfect sense to me.

"I was unconscionably foolish," he said. "Not only was I so repugnant as to linger here to listen, unbidden, to your private conversation, I attempted to enter your home without permission. This was the price for my pride and stupidity, and I bear it well. Or, as well as I am able."

"You're a jerk," I said, my hand hovering over the injury. "I thought… can't you heal these?"

He looked at me, confused, "Why am I a jerk exactly?"

"For hurting yourself," I said, feeling just awful, unable to help. "What can we do?"

He looked wary, "You aren't angry that I listened in on your conversation, that I behaved… what is the common parlance… like a stalker?"

I considered, "No, I don't mind. I mean, it sounds rather boring, actually, but I don't particularly mind. How did this hurt you?"

He looked a little shifty, as though he wasn't sure how to respond.

"Edward," I said, a touch of desperation leaking into my voice, "please. How can I help you?"

He shook his head, relenting.

"There is no help for it," he said. "The only way to heal it is blood."

I froze, "Blood?"

He nodded, "While I could use my reserves, it is usually used for things like common injuries and to feeling warm, to appear more human, this… this is a different sort of injury. It takes more, more than I can carry, more than I have. I will need more, fresh blood, direct from the body."

I quickly weighed the idea of Edward in pain against my own morals and felt like the worst person in the world, as though someone's life would be worth his lack of pain.

"Donated blood won't do?" I asked.

He shook his head, "It isn't about the blood. That is just a symbol. It is about life. That is what feeds us."

I couldn't believe we were talking so casually about this.

"I…" I said, barely mumbling, "I can't…"

A rictus of disgust fixed itself upon his face.

"Bella," he said, sounding contrite. "No. We are not talking about a human life. Of course not. I… I will not hunt another human, not after…"

He looked down, looked sad.

"I would have clarified," he said, "had I thought there was a need. After everything that I have… after all the simple joy just these two days have brought, I could never so easily throw it all away. Never. You… you mean far too much to me for that."

I felt almost relieved. It was like having to have a shot and finding that it felt no more painful than a cotton swab. I wanted to laugh, the sensation of pain feeling almost good.

"Good," I said. "That's… that good."

He reached over and touched my face, doing so with his unburnt hand. I became still and calm, trying to make it as easy for him as possible, which was nearly completely defeated by my heart suddenly doing a samba. He grinned at me.

"We can feed," he explained, "on the blood of animals. The bigger and more predatory, the better."

I considered, "Why haven't you done this before?"

He looked almost ashamed, "I… it seemed a pointless restriction."

He began to drive as he continued.

"I have never taken an innocent life," he said. "Not by anyone's definition. The men… the men who…"

He went slightly rigid.

"I am sorry," he said. "The men who hurt you… Simply the memory elicits a violent reaction in me. They were not even remotely the worst offenders I have… eliminated. All were accursed creatures, to be sure. My gift makes it easy enough for me to track them, to find them, to finish them. I took only the lives of those who took lives themselves. Murders or soon to be murders. I have prevented countless deaths, and that was justification enough for me once."

We pulled up to the school and he refitted his glove, carefully.

"How did this happen?" I asked, leaping at the change in subject.

He grinned humorlessly, "We cannot enter a home uninvited. That is true to the lore, though not everything is."

I looked disappointed, and he burst out laughing.

"What?" I asked. And he grinned.

"We have to be around people again," he said, "so you can't ask me all that you want, and it distresses you."

My mouth fell open. He was right, of course.

"I am glad that I too can read you well," he said.

We got out of the car.

"How much did you hear?" I asked.

He didn't look very pleased with himself, but he relented.

"Everything," he said. "More than you, in fact."

I realized he meant that he got the conversation and the mental reactions.

"Oh?" I asked.

He laughed, "Jacob likes you."

I snorted, "He said as much, if not in words."

He walked beside me, offered his arm.

"If you…" he said quietly. "If you decide I am not worth-"

"Hey," I said, pulling him to a halt.

"Bella," he said, facing me. "You may always decide differently. I do not mean this in a negative way against myself. If you do decide that the cost of being with… me… is more than the rewards, Jacob… might… be an acceptable alternative."

I didn't know what to say.

"Even if he is a willful child," he said with a nearly teasing smirk.

I grinned, "At least he isn't a…"

He knew what I meant. Edward tried to give me a disapproving look, but could not but smile at me.

"I want you," I said ardently, "only you."

He smiled, "And I you, Bella."

There was the slightest hitch to his last words, but I wasn't sure. It was too subtle.

He walked me to class. This time, it felt… strange. I wasn't sure, but it felt a bit like neither of us wanted to go. That I understood, completely. Why be anywhere without him when I could be with him? It made no sense.

"I will see you next break," he said, as though knowing that this information would be enough for me to be willing to be drawn away.

"Alright," I said, not stepping back. "I'll see you then."

Neither of us moved.

"Going now," I said, still not moving.

He grinned, touching his forehead to mine.

"I can't wait for tomorrow," he said.

Suddenly, I felt like I had been smacked in the face. Right, grounded.

He gave me a knowing smile.

"You know?" I asked. Of course he knew. He knew everything.

"I do," he said with an embarrassed smile.

I shook my head, "I am sorry. I don't know what to do."

He smiled, the embarrassment melting away.

"I have faith in you," he said. "We'll figure it out."

He turned and walked away.

English took longer than I would have thought possible. Even though it was my favorite subject, I was climbing the walls by the end of it. Edward was waiting for me, and I practically fled at him when I saw him. To my surprise, he actually took me into his arms. For a moment, I marveled in his cool embrace, feeling at peace for the first time since we had parted.

"I don't know what to do," I said. "What can I do?"

Edward looked into my eyes, his calm almost irritating me.

"You want my option?" he asked.

"Yes!" I said, loud enough that a few people turned our way. I quieted down.

"I mean," I said, "you seem to have all the answers here."

He pressed his lips, "In this case, I have no more answers than you."

I frowned at him, "Well, can't you tell me how to get back on my dad's good side? What does he want?"

He shrugged, "I really have no idea."

I was starting to feel angry.

"Why aren't you being more helpful?" I asked. "Don't you want me to go?"

He stopped walking.

"You are angry with me?" he asked.

I felt suddenly sick.

"No," I said, feeling like an idiot. "No, I really am not."

I sighed, "That wasn't fair. I wanted to go so badly, I started taking it out on you because it was easier than taking responsibility for my own stupidity."

"Stupidity?" question Edward.

I nodded, "I am grounded because I lied."

Edward nodded, "I knew why he said you were grounded. I just didn't know if it was true or not."

"It's true," I said. "I brought this upon myself."

He propelled me through the crowd to my next class. People gave us a lot of room.

"It is going to be alright," he said to me, and I felt myself begin to relax at his arm around me, his word stirring cool air about me.

"Even if we do not go to the dance," he said, "that changes nothing."

I shook my head.

"I just don't like feeling like I have no choice," I said.

"You do have a choice," he said. "You chose to lie, and this is your consequence."

I would have felt blamed if it wasn't for the absolutely blameless tone of his voice.

"You had a choice then, and you have one now," he continued. "You can choose to feel victimized by this plight that you have caused yourself, by your own reckoning, or you can choose to have faith, to go forward knowing that you can be happy, regardless of what the days will bring, that everything will be okay."

By the time we reached Government, I was completely at ease.

"How do you do that?" I asked, looking at him in wonder.

He smiled at me, "I have a loving family who do remind me of what is important now and again. You are not the only one who was afraid about how this course of events would turn out."

Somehow, the fact that he had been upset too, that made me feel even more calm. Without thinking, I reached up and touched his cheek. After a momentary stiffening, he seemed well.

"Thank you," I said.

He shook his head, "I should be thanking you. You have given me a chance to learn to be happier. That alone is worth every grievance that might come my way, to say nothing of that fact that I get to walk this path with you…"

He brushed my cheek in turn and turned to leave. I watched him go, nearly having the door closed on me as the late bell rang.

When Edward met me and walked me to Trig, I left him to head to the bathroom, telling him to go on, that I would go the rest of the way with Jessica. She was at her usual mirror, touching up lip balm and looking preoccupied.

"Hey," I said, not looking forward to this.

Being my best friend and all, she whipped around immediately, smearing lip balm, looking horrified by my tone.

"What?" she demanded desperately.

I sighed, "I may not be going to the-"

"NO!" she all but screamed, dropping the lip balm and grabbing my wrist, "What happened!?"

I walked to the sink, glad that Edward had calmed me enough for this. I pulled out some paper towels and cleaned Jess's cheek of the cherry scented smear as I explained.

"Your dad isn't letting you go to the dance because you didn't tell him you were going?" she asked.

"No," I said. "My dad isn't letting me go to the dance because I purposely told him I was doing something else on Saturday, with no sign I was ever going to tell him about the dance at all."

"Why?" she asked.

"Because I didn't want my dad to know, obviously," I said, knocking hips with her as we headed to class.

"Yeah," she said smiling, "but why though? What did that matter?"

I shook my head, "I didn't know how my dad was going to react. I mean, I noticed that he didn't lock his door, and as soon as I pointed it out, he gave me a key, started locking the door and gave me a pepper spray."

I couldn't remember how, but I had found the pepper spray back in my bag when I had checked my purse after that night was over. I wasn't sure when Edward had done it, but he must have collected it at some point and put it back when I wasn't looking.

"Hmm," said Jess. "I see your point. If you told him you had a boyfriend, it might have been…"

"Like getting interrogated by the chief of police, yeah," I said.

She shrugged, "Maybe not. I mean, yeah, I probably wouldn't have told him right away either, but I would have told him."

I considered that. I hadn't told him. Even when I knew that he knew, I didn't tell him. I just sat back and did the same thing all over again, lied. Now that I was thinking about it, I realized that must have been not a lot of fun for him, being lied to over and over again.

"You're right Jess," I said, my words seriously surprising her.

"I should have told him," I said, "You would have handled this way better than me."

She snorted, "Don't do that! You're supposed to be the moral one who does everything right. I'm supposed to be the wild party girl that teaches you how to live. Don't go shifting the dynamic on me now!"

"Oh yeah," I said, sarcasm thick, "let's go behind the gym and cut class next period and get high and sip Everclear."

Jess looked impressed, "You actually know what Everclear is? You're more corrupt than I thought!"

We enjoyed class, giggling and giving each other significant looks throughout. After class, Mr. Varner actually asked us if he could check our bags when class was over, without saying what it was for but knowing he was looking for anything potentially illicit. We both agreed, because it was hilarious, and we had nothing to hide and Jess loved the cred we got and wary looks from the other students.

"You need to be the bad girl more often," she said.

A cool arm slipped into mine.

"I like her as she is," Edward said, "herself."

Jess tried to look like she wanted to gag, but she before long, she just looked sort of sappy.

I considered that, smiling, "And if I turned into a rebellious party girl?"

Both he and Jess looked as though they were trying not to laugh.

"You don't know," I said, slightly disgruntled. "It could happen."

He smiled, "You could shave your head and be tattooed and favor every flavor of drink and fail all your classes and spend all your time with ruffians; I would but worry for your health and safety and future prospects. My feelings would never change."

It was almost enough to have me consider that path, if only to see how he might react, to see if his feelings did change, but that wasn't me. I knew, and I didn't need to test him, to manipulate him, to be sure.

He walked with us to class, quiet and impassive as Jess and I talked about what might happen if I didn't go to the dance. She seemed surprised that Edward already knew and as acting as though it was no big deal, but then realized that he really did care about me, and gave me a radiant smile as we talked, happy for me. When Edward turned and kissed my hand before departing, her eyes bugged out a bit and as soon as he was gone, she swayed with her swooning.

"You are so lucky!" she cried, hushed and wistful. "If I told Mike I wasn't going to the dance because I was grounded, he would… well, he would probably try to sneak into my room and… well, not that I would stop him…"

She quickly became embarrassed and we found our seats before Spanish began.

Lunch finally arrived, and when Edward came to meet me, he was quiet. I realized that his quiet before was something more than letting us girls talk, and I looked at him more closely.

"What is it?" I asked.

He came up short, then laughed, "Of course. I can hide nothing from you."

He stepped closer, and I found his arm sliding behind my back to settle his hand upon my far hip. It took me a moment for the tingles to play themselves out and the shivers to stop jackhammering up and down my spine. I found myself doing the same, putting my arm around him. My fingers found an empty belt loop and I found I liked sliding my fingers into it.

"You make me very happy," I said, smiling. "But you aren't going to distract me."

He laughed anew.

"Foiled, again!" he said dramatically, and we stepped to line for lunch.

"Well?" I asked.

He nodded an indication at the line, "Let me buy you lunch first."

"Alright," I said, unable to tell at all what was going on from his tone.

He bought lunch, and we sat down together. I was about to ask what was going on, when Alice appeared.

"Go," she said.

Edward looked annoyed, he opened his mouth, but her eyes found his. For a solid thirty seconds, they stared, unblinkingly. Finally, Edward stood and walked away. I was completely baffled.

Alice sat down, an almost imperceptible twitch of her hand the only indication I needed for me to know she wanted me to eat. I did.

"You haven't figured it out yet," she said. "Though, I suspect that it is because you aren't trying, which I like."

I went to open my mouth.

"I like it too," she explained, "that you think of us as humans first."

That was enough.

"You don't read minds," I stated.

She beamed, "I do not."

Her smile continued, as I figured it out. As she knew that I would. Because she could see. Then, I wondered, which came first. Did she know what to say so that I would figure it out because she looked, or did she have to pick her words carefully, each inflection and choice creating a new outcome?

"A bit of both," she said, smiling and prettily crossing her legs and hands, looking like we were high class women sitting down for a proper spot of tea, despite her modern, high school appropriate trendy, high fashion outfit.

"I see," she said, "what people choose with the information they have. When they get new information, their choices can change. I have a lot of practice finding the best new information they need to make an informed decision."

I looked perturbed.

"You control people?" I asked.

She laughed, "No more so than you do. I can't take anyone's choice away. At best I can nudge people down an incline of their own making."

I saw what she was saying. She gave people information, but they still made the decision themselves. It was a bit like giving people a reason to do what they were going to do anyway.

"You're right," she said. "It is all about intent."

You could convince someone to avoid a harmful situation as easily as you could convince someone to enter a dangerous one. Which begged the question…

"Why are you here?" I asked.

She beamed, "I am still surprised at how fast you get here. Every time, it takes no more than ten comments before we get here. This was one of the faster paths."

I shake my head.

"You really can see the future," I said.

She shrugged, "And you really can figure it out."

I looked her in the eyes, "Figure out…what? Going to the dance?"

She grinned at me, "Yep. You have everything you need."

I shook my head, "Then why don't you just tell me."

She laughed, a sound almost unnatural in its perfection, ringing like some ethereal wind through heavenly chimes.

"Two reasons," she said. "One, it will be so much more gratifying to you personally if you are to figure this out on your own, and two, what fun would that be?"

I frowned at her, "I am starting to see why Edward finds you so annoying."

She beamed, "Aw! Thank you!"

"Urgh!" I said, turning back to my food.

She got up and hugged me sideways about the shoulders.

"Don't be too hard on him," she said. "He didn't want this either, but it must be done."

"What?" I asked. She turned and began walking away, Edward returning from the table with his family.

"What was that about?" I asked.

Edward looked… scared almost.

"What is it?" I asked, starting to feel scared myself. I suddenly empathized wholeheartedly with Jess, glad I wasn't applying lip balm.

"I am taking a half day," he said.

I started and stared, "What?"

He sat, "Alice and I are leaving, shortly."

I looked at him, "Why didn't you tell me?"

He tried to smile, but he looked uncomfortable, "Because of the look you are giving me now."

What Alice said clicked, and I relaxed. Then I shot her a dirty look, since she was beaming happily at me from across the room.

Edward gave me a sympathetic look, "She does that."

I felt better, yet still disgruntled, "Why didn't you tell me you were going to go? Now I feel like… I don't know. Like I wasn't appreciating the time we had together enough."

He shrugged and said without criticism, "That is but one choice that you can make."

I sighed then snorted.

"Why do you have to be so reasonable?" I mock complained.

He grinned, "I considered that you might like that better than me trying to convince you that you were wrong."

He was right.

"I told you when I could bear it," he said. "I… I don't want to leave. It isn't that I covet you, that I cling to you for fear of loneliness. I do not want to leave because I wish to be at your side. I do not wish to miss a single moment."

He bowed his head.

"However," he said, almost growled the words, "certain meddlesome sisters have pointed out that I have a responsibility, to myself and to you by proxy, to take care of myself and be proactive in taking care of my body."

I sat a little straighter, but listened on.

"I need to hunt," he said. "I need to see to my hand and I can't do that and stay at the same time. I need to drive a great distance to find what I need, and I won't be back until late tonight. I would have liked to stay the day, but Alice… insisted."

"Insisted?" I asked.

He shook his head, "She says that we are out of balance."

I considered the words.

"In what way?" I asked.

He pushed the tray at me and I took the hint beginning to eat what I could while I could.

"I didn't use the term clinging and coveting by accident," he said. "I am jealous and I do want to keep you safe, but I am wanting those things for selfish reasons and using them as justification to keep you to myself for fear of what might befall you should I not be here."

I finished chewing.

"You still think you are going to lose me?" I asked.

He looked solemn.

"In so many words, yes," he said. "I suppose a better way to put it is that I fear losing you."

He looked at me, his smile brittle.

"I do not yet have faith enough to believe that I could be as happy as you make me without you," he said. "This is me, trying to have faith…"

He sighed and grumbled, "…at the insistence of said meddling sister."

I laughed and Alice and I shared a smile across the room.

"For shame," I said, taking his hand.

I didn't feel so bad now, and something seemed to seep its way into my brain. This wasn't just a lesson to Edward, so to speak. This was a lesson for me too. I could see it, empathize with it so much.

"I am afraid too," I said. "I was afraid that if I told Charlie, he might find some way to keep me from you, to tell me that I was wrong and stupid for caring about you."

He looked confused, "Why would he say such things?"

I shook my head, "It isn't that I am afraid he will say them; I am afraid that they are true. You are not like other boys, and there is some part of me that fears the people will judge me for my actions, will see me as silly and foolish, risking so much for something that may never happen."

I could see the pieces fall into place in his mind, it was so evident upon his face.

"I am, perhaps, a poor choice in boyfriends," he said with a wry smile, then his face fell a bit.

"What exactly may never happen?" he asked.

My smile was endearing at his evident fear.

"That we might succeed in this," I said, waving my hand in indication of us both. "I mean, how many successful teenage relationships are there? You already said, my parents are living proof that this doesn't often happen."

He nodded, "Ah. I see your point."

I finished the last of my food.

"I'm just scared," I said. "I never thought about it, but I am. I never thought I would be the sort to stick her head in the sand and try not to see it, but honestly, ignoring your fear is probably one of the simplest, if worst, ways to deal with said fear."

He nodded, "At some point, we just have to alleviate our own fears, not just cope with them."

I smiled, "Don't worry. If I'm not here when you get back, I'll be just as put out as you are."

Despite himself, he smiled too, hardly able to contain his laughter. Every time, it was defibrillators, a shock to the heart. I didn't think I would ever get used to that smile.

Alice returned then. I barely noticed. Edward had my hand, and we stared into each others' faces, caring not for the outside world. The bell rang, and we stood. He touched my face briefly, and then walked away. I watched him go, enveloped by the memory of his arms around me. Grabbing my bag, I went to class.

I hadn't been sitting in Biology long before Mike came over.

"Where's your boyfriend?" he asked, just this side of snide. "I know he was here today."

"Doctor's appointment," I said easily. "Something about his levels being off."

It wasn't entirely a lie or anything.

"Oh," said Mike. "So, like is he gone for the day?"

"Yeah," I said.

"Do you need a lab partner?" he asked, sort of enthusiastically.

I found myself smiling, "Considering we spent the last two days watching a movie, I doubt there is going to be much of a lab today, but you can always be my partner in Gym."

Mike, to my surprise, sighed and slumped against the lab table before me.

"I'm not good at this," he said.

"At what?" I asked.

"At being friends," he said.

I could sort of see his dilemma. I was sure it was hard for teenage boys, who were so interested in girls, other things seemed so very unimportant. Then, if they found a girl they liked, then said girl showed no interest, what was there for them? Backed by a society that impugned their manhood when they were rejected? It was something we had in common, learning that our worth was dependent on how desirable we were, especially to those whom we desired. I took a moment to think about what my life would have been like had Edward showed no interest in me. I was used to boys not being interested in me, good-looking or otherwise. Mike, likable charismatic popular Mike, was not.

I shrugged, "You don't have to be."

He looked at me, trying to understand what I meant.

"You don't have to be bad at being friends," I explained. "Sure, it will take some work, but that is what life is. Or you can just not be my friend. That is an option too. Or, you can try to date me like a clingy jerk even though I have said no."

"I wouldn't do that," he said quickly.

"Good," I said smiling. "Because, despite not wanting to date you, I do like you Mike. Being my friend isn't less than what you want. It is just different. But we can't be friends if you try to treat me like a girlfriend, or worse, are just waiting to swoop in and try to be my boyfriend if I become single again. That isn't fair, to me or to you, or to Jess."

Mike looked like he was about to say something, but I cut him off.

"Think about it," I said, as Mr. Banner started gathering the class's attention. He nodded and found his usual seat.

The class went quickly, and I was grateful for that. It left little time to wonder about Edward, to think about what he was doing at that exact moment. I wished that I knew. I wondered if he was thinking of me. It occurred to me for the first time that I had not been nearly so interested about the goings on in his head as he was of the goings on in mine. I wanted to know him, but I never felt any need to know his thoughts outside of what he wanted to share. I supposed it was different for us, since he knew the thoughts of others around him with or without their consent. I wondered what that might be like and decided I didn't want it. It wasn't necessary for me to be happy and I could do without it, to say nothing of the fact that I was a big fan of the whole consent thing. Choice, after all, was the most important right people had.

Gym was about what I expected it to be. We played a sport, Coach let me play as much as I felt like, which was usually only enough to make sure I didn't hurt anyone or myself, and Mike picked up the slack. Afterward, before we changed out, Mike caught up with me.

"I want to be your friend," he said. "This whole, halfway thing is a bunch of bunk. It isn't fun, and I just feel… I don't know… so needy all the time. But, I don't know, I don't really understand how to do this. I've never had to."

I smiled, "Yeah. Trying to do something new is hard. I mean, I have never had a boyfriend before either. There are times when I don't know what I am doing, and I am afraid to do stupid things without even realizing it."

"Like what?" he asked, I wasn't sure if he was really interested or if he just wanted to hear about our relationship not being perfect. I thought for a moment.

"Sometimes," I said, "when Edward is scared, he tries to make my decisions for me."

Mike looked upset, "That jerk-"

"-did nothing you didn't try to do yourself," I pointed out.

He shut up.

"I don't like anyone making my decisions for me," I went on, "so it is ironic that I tried to control him right back to get him to stop, to behave the way I wanted him to."

Mike looked a little surprised at that.

"Why?" he asked.

"Why is it ironic?" I asked back.

"No," he said, sounding amused, "why did you do it?"

I thought about it, "Same reason he did. When we feel scared, we do stupid things. And that is okay. Neither of us is going to get this right on the first try. We don't need to. Being imperfect is all part of being a person. I am not going to hold it against you if you do it wrong or if you go back to trying to be my boyfriend again without thinking. I will gladly point it out to you, if you like."

He nodded, "I don't want to hurt Jess. I… she…"

He looked pretty cute, all worried about her. Jess was going to die. I could feel little butterflies of excitement at just the thought of telling her about this.

"You care about her," I said, helping him out.

"Yeah," he said, a small smile on his face, his eyes and thoughts far away. "I… we broke up before because I didn't know how. Like, I wanted to but I couldn't do anything right and she kept wanting more, and after a while, I just felt like I was doing what she wanted rather than what I-"

He stopped, and looked at me with a shocked expression, somewhere between awe and laughter.

"She was making my decisions for me!" he almost yelled.

I laughed.

"Why do you think that was?" I asked.

"Because," he said, "she was scared. She didn't know what to do because I was her first real boyfriend, and she was just doing the best she could."

I smiled. He looked so… I don't know. It was like, he wasn't just his usual Mike, the jockish boy who romped with his friends and knew all the right things to say. He was… more himself, more honest, in his face and expression. I could see it clearly; he wanted to find Jess. He wanted to feel close to her and be close to her and he knew something more about her, the real her, and he wasn't trying to make her wrong or be right and explain it to her. He saw her, knew that it was okay for her to be flawed, as we all were, and wanted to be with her.

"Go," I said, hoping he would go before I started tearing up. I hurried myself, changing out in record time. To my surprise, I actually was out in the parking lot before him. Jess was waiting, as she usually was. She saw me and looked a little confused.

"Where's your boyfriend?" she asked, looking unsure. "He didn't break up with you because of the dance, did he?"

I grinned.

"That's a no then," she sighed. "Don't do that to me! I was- what?"

I was still grinning.

"What?" she asked, focused on me, in no way aware that Mike was coming up behind her. She gave out a little squeak as he bent, almost smothering her as he slid his arms around her, his shoulders atop hers, his head next to hers, nearly toppling the two of them.

"Hey," he said, and that one word was filled with such a depth of meaning that Jess froze.

"Hi," she said, almost timidly. For a moment, she looked like she was going to kiss him, but he wouldn't let go of her, wouldn't give her enough room to get her mouth to him.

"Mike," she said surprised, wonder starting to creep into her expression. "What?"

"I'm glad," he said, still not letting go.

"Of what?" she said, pleased but confused.

"For you," he said. "I want to be your boyfriend again."

Jess looked like she was going to cry. He couldn't hold on to her anymore. She slipped his grip and jumped him, throwing her arms around his neck.

"But," he finally said, and she slid down, not looking exactly worried, but certainly concerned.

"I need to do it my way this time," he said. "Last time, I did things all your way, and it didn't work for me. I want to do things my way too. I want to show you how I feel, and I can't do it if all I am doing is what you want me to do. Is…"

He looked almost worried.

"Is that okay?" he asked, looking so very young and vulnerable. A tear rolled from one of Jess's eyes. I was certainly trying not to blink.

She nodded, as though unable to speak. The smile that lit his face was staggering, earnest and true. Their exchange was starting to gain the attention of more than a few passing students.

"Yeah?" he asked, starting to lean closer to her. She still only nodded, but he stopped, not leaning in more.

"Yeah?" he asked again, refusing to lean further. She tried to hold back the laughter but couldn't.

"Yes," she said loudly, and only then did he kiss her, though it was hardly a solid kiss, the two of them smiling too much to keep it together. Finally, he picked her up, her arms around his neck, her hands gripping the others' elbow. Her tearful eyes found mine, and her words mouthed 'Thank you' as her eyes seemed to ask how this moment was even possible.

I started walking away. I got only about three steps before I felt Jess's hand on my arm. I turned and she hugged me.

"How?" she asked, holding me close.

"I told him the truth," I said, "about me. Some stuff applied to you two too."

She shook her head, starting to bubble over in girlish delight.

"Thank you," she said, pulling back. To my surprise, it was Mike's turn next. He hugged me, and it was remarkable how obviously platonic his embrace was.

"Thanks," he said too, and turning, he grabbed Jess's hand and they headed for his car, off to do whatever happy people do when they are in love.

I turned and realized, I didn't know where I was going. It was almost as though my destination wasn't in my head, like I was trying to go back down a path, but I didn't know where I had started. Only then did I realize why.

I hadn't gotten myself to school. Edward had driven me. He wasn't here now. How was I going to get home?

I sighed, I prepared myself to walk home, or maybe text Jess to see if I could borrow her car while she was off with Mike, when I saw… my truck. It was parked in its usual spot. I checked my ring. The key wasn't there.

"Show off," I muttered again, walking to the truck. The door was unlocked. The key was in the ignition. There was a note on the seat. I read, "Be safe". I smiled.

After a quick drive home, I set to work. I pulled my dress out of my closet and set it where I could see it. It was unwrinkled and clean, so I hung it on the door and went straight to work on my homework. While I finished it, I was thinking about Alice the whole time.

She was right, dagnabbit! All the way around she was right. We had been out of balance. I was focusing too much on Edward, fearing that I would lose him and had to get what I could while I could. Letting go allowed me to be present for my friends, let me help them and talk to them about the truth, which was gratifying, and let me figure out what I had been doing wrong. When we are scared, we make mistakes. We try to control, to minimize our fears. But the best thing we can do, at every fork in our path into the future, was telling the truth. And that, that was what Dad wanted.

A quick run to the store, and I had everything that I needed. By the time Charlie walked in the door, I was nearly done.

"Don't come in yet," I said from the kitchen. I heard him pause at his old bureau where he was putting away his gun.

"Okay," he said, sounding wary and weary.

He went to the living room and turned on the television to wait. Finally, after plating, I said, "Okay. It's ready."

The steamed veggies were on the table, but not on his plate like they were mine. He could get them himself if he decided he wanted them, though he usually didn't. Heaped on his plate was a load of his favorite, Grandma's Swan Stroganoff.

"What's this?" he asked, looking even more wary but softening at the sight.

"Dinner," I said.

"What did you do?" he asked suspiciously.

"Nothing," I said, not a hint of defensiveness to me.

"Okay," he said, almost disbelieving but willing to go along with it for now.

We sat and ate. It really was good. I had outdone myself. Granted, the degree of care I put into making it this time was pretty extreme. I had pulled out the index card, even though I had made it enough times to have it memorized. I had triple checked every measurement and note, had picked fresh, local, and/or organic items where I could. I could understand why grandma said this was the meal I should only make for family or the man I intended to marry.

"I hope you don't think this can buy you out of being grounded," he said.

I came up short.

"What?" I said in surprise. "No, Dad. That isn't what I am doing here at all."

I sighed. I looked at him. He wasn't exactly stern. It was more like… he felt like he had to be angry, he had to be gruff and stamp his foot down. It was as though he needed to do these things in order to live up to the idea of being a good parent, a good father, what everyone expected him to be.

"You were right to ground me," I said.

It was his turn to look shocked.

"I was lying to you," I admitted, "for totally stupid reasons."

He looked at me, his face clearing asking what those reasons were.

"I…" I said, feeling that pull, that part of me that wanted to make up excuses, that didn't want to admit aloud my flaws and my stupidity. But if I was ever going to get through this, it needed to be honest.

"I was scared," I said, and I could see the disarming effect my sincerity had.

"Of?" he asked.

I swallowed hard, not getting the lump out of my throat.

"That I wouldn't be good enough," I said.

"Why?" he asked. "Why wouldn't you be good enough for him?"

"Not him," I said. "For you."

He froze.

"Bella," he said, practically an admonishment. But he shut up and let me say my piece.

"I've never had a boyfriend," I said, "and, I guess, some part of me always believed that you liked that about me, that you would react badly if I started dating. It sort of felt like you were just protecting me from the boys, but you were keeping me away from them, with your behavior."

He dropped his head for a moment.

"I just thought," I said, "that if I admitted to you that I was dating, that you would read me the riot act and tell me that he wasn't good enough, and the entire time it would feel like I was the one who wasn't good enough, that I was the one being stupid and that my decisions didn't matter."

He didn't say anything.

"I know," I said, "we don't really do the heavy stuff in this house, so it is hard for me to do the honesty thing sometimes, but I didn't have to lie to you like that. I'm sorry. I won't do it again."

Aside from lying by omission about my vampire beau, but why split hairs?

"Bella," he said again, but this time, it sounded like a concession, or maybe a confession.

"I…" he started, then sighed and tried again.

"I haven't been that fair to you," he said. "I really do try to be fair in my life, as often as I can, but when it comes to you and your safety, I guess I have a tendency to go overboard in a hurry."

I tried not to smile.

"Well," he said, "anyways, I suppose I can understand you behaved the way you did. It isn't as though I think any boy is good enough for you, but I didn't think about how that would seem to you. You are important, and you get to live your own life. You are a young lady now, soon to be out of the house, sooner than I really care to think about, which is probably why I keep trying to be your Dad a little longer."

I got up. He kept facing his food, which I expected, so my brief hug about his shoulders, mostly from behind, didn't put him off too much.

"You will always be my Dad," I said, my head next to his. "Whether I live here or not."

Briefly, he set his hand on my arm. He smiled as I took my seat again.

"So," he said, "tell me about this guy."

"Edward," I said.

Dad froze.

"The doctor's boy?" he asked, looking like he was about to start ramping up. "Which one? Not that big one, right?"

I smiled, "No, Dad. Edward. The youngest."

Well, sort of. His brothers were both Seniors.

"That's the loner type?" he asked. "That's the one you are dating-"

He paused, taking a deep breath.

"I am sure it's fine," he said, his teeth gritted.

I laughed. I couldn't help it. He relaxed, sighing and failing not to smile, if only a little one.

"What time is he picking you up for the dance?" he asked.

I stared at him, "Dad?"

He shook his head.

"I wasn't going to make you miss it," he said. "I would have talked with you tomorrow morning before I left, hung around until you got up, would have told you about the merits of honesty and all that. I mean, you already bought the dress…"

I don't know where it came from. But I came the closest I ever had to a Jess level of reaction

"Thank you, Dad!" I said, throwing my arms around him again. "Thank you!"

I ran to the phone.

"Not so fast," he said, and I stopped just sort of grabbing the cordless.

"Dinner first," he said. "And tell me your plans for tomorrow."

"I am leaving here around three to go to Jess's," I said between large bites. "We are leaving from her place with the boys around six for dinner and going to the dance straight after."

"What time are you going to be home?" he asked.

"I am not sure," I said. "Knowing Edward, early-ish."

He gave me a weird look.

"He is sort of old-fashioned," I explained. "He wouldn't want to keep me out too late. People would talk and all that."

"Huh," said Charlie, relaxing further. "Nice one, Eddie."

"Edward," I said brusquely, and Dad laughed.

I finished dinner quickly and Charlie waved a hand to indicate he would handle the dishes. Given his expression, there might not be any leftovers other than the veggies.

I grabbed the phone and ran upstairs. On the third ring, Jess picked up.

"Three o'clock?" I asked. That was all I needed to say before the squealing began.


	14. Chapter 14: Preparations

The next morning, I awoke feeling rested, which amazed me considering that I got the impression that I had tossed and turned restlessly all night. I was surprised that I slept at all really, considering how excited I was for the day. How much I had changed! I couldn't have imagined being this excited for a dance two weeks ago.

I got up, dressed in jeans and long sleeve T, looking outside. The weather was surprisingly nice, the sun peeking from the clouds now and again, I wondered if this would be a problem for Edward. I pulled out my dress, ready to move it to the truck when it was time to leave. I put my shoes and wrap on my chair for when I needed them, then proceeded to do my usual Saturday routine. Light breakfast, laundry, cleaning downstairs, planned the meals for the week and set up a grocery list, rechecking my homework. I was halfway through the latter when I heard a knock at the door. Charlie had left hours ago, before I had gotten up, and I had never had an unexpected visitor, save one, which was why I was suddenly sprinting just long enough to remember that a tumble down the stairs would do no one any favors. I got to the door and threw it open without thinking it would be anyone other than him, which it was.

It took me a moment, considering I thought I had never seen her before, but then, I realized that I had simply never seen her on a sunny day before.

"Alice?" I nearly croaked. Her pixyish mean remained, but her hair had gone gray and white in places. Her fair skin was papery, aged without being age-spotted, her wrinkles so fine it gave the look of being repeatedly crumpled until they were nearly ubiquitous, leaving her soft and almost powdery. But it wasn't the most eye catching change in her appearance; her eyes… I had never seen anything like those eyes. I realized that she wore contacts, just as Edward did, to keep from being seen as something otherworldly. Her blue eyes were… everything. They swam with every hue of blue that there was. It could be so easy to lose yourself, trying to pick out every detail. They had the appearance of gemstone, all hidden depths and shine. It was impossible to see such eyes and still believe she was simply human.

Which made it all the more disconcerting when her voice was staggeringly the same.

"Yes, yes," she complained, "Now, will you please invite me in?"

I chastised myself for knowing better and for not being more polite.

"Come in," I said, "why are you coming in?"

It was only then I noticed the bag, which seemed too heavy for her even when she looked like her younger, usual self.

"I know, I know," she snapped quickly. "You absolutely wouldn't let me even loan you a gown, even though I have them in your size and they would look amazing on you. Don't give me that look! I didn't buy them just for you. And I know that you couldn't possibly deny Jess the satisfaction of doing your makeup, even though I would do a much better job. You would hate that and the dress, because you would be gorgeous and feel so completely unlike yourself that you wouldn't have nearly as good a time as you hoped, even though you deserve to feel glamorous and beautiful because you are, no arguments!"

I didn't feel like arguing; I felt like giggling. I have never seen anyone so small be so passionately determined. I didn't think it was a time for giggles though. I felt like this was a speech given to the troops before a battle, which just made me want to giggle all the more.

"So," she said in passing, heading for the kitchen, "I am relegated to hair. And, I know! I know. Nothing too fancy or too elaborate. I can be understanding. Mostly. Now…"

She pulled me over and began running cool fingers through my hair.

"Not terrible," she said. "Here."

She pulled out two bottles of something. I didn't recognize the labels. It didn't help that the instructions were in Italian or French. I couldn't tell which.

"Shampoo your hair with that one," she pointed, "I will tell you when to rinse. Then condition with the other, again, and I will also tell you when to rinse. Dry with this and then come back, wearing this."

She handed me a fluffy white towel and a blue silk robe.

"I have-" but she cut me off.

"Bella," she all but whined, "will you please just trust me!"

I rolled my eyes and took all that was offered me, heading upstairs to the shower. I stripped and got in, finding the water temperature good, and tried to relax, the shower helping. I was about to pop the top to the shampoo when I heard Alice's voice.

"Not quite as much as you usually use," she called through the door.

I paused.

"I can see what I will be working with, not what is going on behind the door," she explained. "Your modesty is intact. Not that it matters! We're both girls!"

I found myself laughing, "Alice, don't take this the wrong way, but I am not interested in having you in the shower with me."

She laughed too, and I washed my hair.

"That's good," she said, and I rinsed, drawing my hands through my hair to make sure it got all the suds out. We repeated with the conditioner, and I could tell even before I got out that my hair was soft and smooth in a way that felt nice and made me tingle in a weird way. I got out and found that the towel was way softer than our usual towels, and did a great job of drying me quickly.

"Leave your hair still damp," said Alice. "Just not dripping. I will be downstairs."

I finished and put on the silk robe. It felt incredible, sliding across my shower damp skin. I felt so incredibly relaxed, like me but entirely different, like I had been to the spa that one time with my mom, only somehow more pampered because I didn't have anyone to mind. I went downstairs, not the least bit self-conscious that I was walking around in a pretty thin robe in common areas of the house. I didn't see Alice anywhere. I headed to the kitchen/dining room, and was about to turn to look for her when I heard something hiss.

"Close your eyes," she said, and I did, suddenly misted by a flowery perfume that I was amazed that I liked so much.

"Ooh," I found myself saying as Alice whipped around me, and I felt additional drops on my neck and wrists. Almost instinctively, I went to put my wrists together.

"Dab," instructed Alice. "Don't rub."

I dabbed my wrists together then each on the spots on my neck in turn.

"Come on," she said, and I heard the chair scrap as I opened my eyes and sat.

She spritzed something in my hair and began brushing it out, her hands and motions so precise and deft that I barely felt a thing. There wasn't even a single knot or uncomfortable tug.

"How are you?" she asked, and I was grateful to have something to do, even if I was enjoying her attention on me.

"Excited," I said, "with a big old side of nervousness."

She laughed, "You don't have any reason to be nervous."

I looked at her, "Do I not?"

She laughed again, "I can't tell you what is going to happen. Too many variables. I can tell you what will happen if nothing changes between now and then, but I am not going to."

I thought about that, "Then why tell me not to be nervous?"

She stopped, and I realized that I was being a bit of an idiot.

"Bella," she said with a sigh, "I am more than my ability. I am a person, and I care about you too. What I do matters too. I want to be a part of the world just as much as you do, and I can't do that if I only exist in the future."

I nodded while she wasn't doing stuff to my hair. Yep, definitely idiot territory.

"Okay," I said.

When she spoke again, she sounded like she was smiling.

"I like that you gave up apologizing," she said. "You don't have to be sorry for your mistakes around him, or me, or anyone. Some people might expect it from time to time, but…"

I smiled, "I always have a choice."

She laughed, squeezing my shoulder, and went back to my hair. We gabbed about this and that, and I had no end of questions about Edward, which she never really answered, simply acting as any sister might, annoyed by her endearing sibling. I kind of got the impression that she was mostly not giving away the game, never telling me anything because she wanted me to learn directly from the source, but I also felt like she was purposefully not telling me something by not telling me anything, a sort of like a lie of omission, only more so.

I couldn't have told you what she did until it was over. She mostly stayed behind me, and her work was so light and careful, I couldn't tell anything except that she was moving my hair around. Finally she handed me a mirror.

"All done," she said, beaming.

I took the mirror. My mouth fell open.

My hair had been plaited into a circlet braid, interwoven with thin wires that look gold, set here and there with what looks like small pearls. The braids disappeared into each other, somehow making a perfect circle with no discernable beginning or endpoint. The bulk of my hair had been pulled into a beautifully crafted bun that looked very stable and tight, yet comfortable, around which the circlet formed. I moved my neck about and nothing pulled or bunched or tugged. It was the nicest my hair had ever looked, shiny and soft. A few strands fell artfully about my face. I wasn't about to lie.

"I feel like a princess," I said in wonder. Alice beamed.

I checked the time. It was perfect. I had just enough time to grab a snack and head over to Jess's. This was going to be interesting.

I ate and Alice packed up.

"Are you going tonight?" I asked, looking at her appearance. I noticed that her hair was almost black again.

"Oh sure," she said. "By the time the sun goes down, I will be fine. I will be in the black cocktail dress. See you there!"

She kissed my cheek and darted out of the house with her bag, her hair flaring gray and white again as she went. She hoped in a black BMW before pulling out and driving away. As soon as she was out of sight, I looked in the mirror again. I wasn't sure. I thought it might be a bit much. I looked so unlike my usual self. I didn't know how to feel. I was suddenly considering pulling everything apart when the phone rang. I answered.

"DON'T YOU DARE!" cried Alice. "Some trust, Bella!"

I sighed and laughed, "Okay, okay."

I hung up.

I ran upstairs to grab my shoes and my dress and found a pack of black pantyhose, sitting atop a shoebox. I picked up the pack, only this time, I recognized the French on the label. Rolling my eyes and smiling, I opened the shoebox. Inside were what looked like my dress shoe, nearly identically, only the heel was greatly diminished. I didn't understand, but I was willing to trust Alice. I stuck the pack, my dress, and my shawl in the garment bag that my bridesmaid dress had been in and headed to the truck, bag over one arm, shoebox under the other. From there, I got to Jess's in short order.

I hadn't made it out the door before Jess made it out of the house. She was running up to me in her excitement, right up until she saw me. I had biffed it on grass hard a time or two. I was just glad she hadn't put her dress on yet.

"Ow," she said, having slid nearly two feet on her front. Her T-shirt was pretty much ruined with grass stains. I knew. Still on the ground, she looked up at me, confused, surprised, and in awe.

"Hi," I said sheepishly.

"How…" she barely got out. "When…"

I shrugged, trying to act like it wasn't any big deal.

"I…" I started, "Alice got to me."

"Alice?" she asked, confused.

"Edward's sister," I said. "She just showed up at my house, insisting on doing me hair."

She stared, and then seemed to realize she was still one ground.

"You think she'll do mine?" she asked, looking impressed and noticeably jealous as she stood up.

I winced, "I don't think so. There isn't enough time. She is probably getting ready herself now."

To say nothing of the fact that she mostly resembled a little old lady the last time I saw her.

"Right," Jess said, sounding mollified.

I winced, "Are you okay?"

She looked distracted a moment.

"What?" she asked, then looked down. "Oh, I'm fine. I'm just thinking I'm going to have to step my game up on your makeup."

I was about to complain, but she cut me off.

"With that dress and that hair, your makeup is going to need to keep up," she said. "No arguments! I am not letting you out of this house with only halfway decent makeup. You will still look like you, I promise."

I started to feel a little uncomfortable.

"Is Angela here yet?" I asked, trying to push the attention away from me.

"Not yet," she said. "Her mom is helping her take in her dress a little and help with her hair. She said she would be over as soon as they are done. We have a little time."

We walked inside to find Jessica's mother standing in the living room, looking like she was trying to tidy the place last minute.

"Why hello," he said expansively, her tightly curled ringlets bobbing as she moved. "Jessica failed to mention we were having company."

This last was said with a blunted rebuke at her daughter.

"Mom," complained Jess. "I told you about the dance. Girls get ready for the dance together, as you well know. I would have thought that was obvious."

Mrs. Stanley finally looked at me and my bag and shoebox.

"Wow," she said. "I see someone already got her hair did. Well, you girls let me know if you need any help with your makeup."

"Mom wanted to be a beautician," Jessica explained, "back before she got knocked up and had to get a respectable job at the bank. She was pretty good, not that there is much work here for that."

We ended up back in Jess's bathroom, which, now that I had met Mrs. Stanley, made a lot more sense with the bottles and makeup mirrors and all.

"Sit," Jess said, bringing in a chair. "We will get you done first, since I know how to put it on myself easily enough."

"Alright," I said, feeling unsure.

Jess set to work. She tried punching up my look, but it wasn't working.

"I don't want blue eye shadow," I said.

"Let's just try it," she said. "We can see how it looks and if you don't like it, we can start again."

Three tries later, I was ready to just do it myself. As though by some sixth mother's sense, Mrs. Stanley appeared before Jess and I could get too frustrated with each other.

"What is going on?" she asked, sounding authoritative.

"I can't make this work," Jess said. "She doesn't like anything I am doing. She says it's too much or not her. I don't know what she wants or how to do what she wants."

Mrs. Stanley clucked her tongue.

"Sit," she said, pointing at the edge of the tub. I got the feeling that this was a typical command, because Jess followed it with the ease of an old habit.

"Now," Mrs. Stanley said. "Let's have a look at you."

She turned on a few portable lights, pointing them so that my face was pretty much devoid of shadow. She looked me over for a long second.

"How often do you wear makeup?" she asked.

"Almost never," I admitted. "Pretty much for fancy occasions, and that's it."

She nodded.

"Can I touch your face?" she asked.

I nodded. Her skin was smooth, her regularly applied lotion unscented, as she brushed the back of her finger on my cheek and my forehead.

"Are you willing to trust me?" she asked, looking me over.

"Sure," I said, "I just don't want-"

She waved a hand.

"You don't have to tell me, hon," she said. "I understand already. You aren't looking for the spotlight. But, tonight, you will be in it whether you want to or not. So, why not look good while doing it? I am not going to make you into someone else. I am just going to show off what you've got."

I tried to relax. I was sure it was going to be okay, but I wasn't used to this.

"Breathe," she said, smiling. "You will be amazed dear, trust me."

She turned the chair so I couldn't see the mirror, readjusting the light. I felt nervous, but that was mostly because I wasn't often in this situation. Once I realized that, that the fear came only from the unknown, it became a lot easier.

She cleaned my face with stuff from two different bottles, one she said got rid of oil, the other that was a really good exfoliate, whatever that means. Then, she did a few tests looking for color matches, she said. In the end, it became as much a lesson for Jessica as it did a makeup application for me. I couldn't understand half the stuff they were talking about, only things like contrasts and basic stuff like lipstick and mascara. But, from the look on Jess's face, her mother was doing something right.

I wasn't sure when Angela got there. I just looked up and she was standing in the doorway. Her hair looked really nice, long and with two thin braids that started around her temples and came together in the back. The rest was a bit wavy and looked really cute on her. I smiled, and she swallowed and I was confused.

"Hey, Ang," I said when I could. "I love your hair."

She looked in awe.

"You look amazing, Bella," she said.

"Yeah," said Jess. "I can't wait to see Lauren. She is going to have kittens! I can't wait for prom."

"Prom?" I asked.

"Yeah," she said. "This is only the spring formal, after all. People really go all out for prom."

I looked at them both, "Is it too much? Am I going overboard?"

"No!" all three of them said at the same time, but Jess got her words out first after that.

"You are not trying too hard because you aren't the one doing it," she said. "Did you ask your friend to do your hair?"

"No," I said, still unconvinced.

"And did you ask me to do your makeup?" asked Mrs. Stanley.

"No," I said, unclenching somewhat.

"All you did was buy a nice dress," said Jess. "The rest are gifts from people in your life who think you deserve it."

Finally, I relaxed completely. She was right. I wasn't trying to be someone I was. I was accepting the gifts of others. Going out tonight, walking in front of the students, that was an act of faith. That I could understand.

Finally, my face was finished. Again, someone handed me a mirror. I closed my eyes until it was in front of me, then I opened them.

It was… not that bad. It was nowhere near as bad as I was fearing. If I had any foundation on, it was hard to tell. My skin looked like its usual pale self. But, I had makeup on, I could tell, but anyone who knew my face less than I did wouldn't be able to tell exactly where the makeup ended and my face began. Sure, the eyeshadow and the nude lip were pretty obvious, but the shadow under my cheek bone that didn't look like blush exactly was less so. I looked more innocent somehow, less look-at-me and more subtlety that drew the eye to look for differences. My eyes popped, dark and expressive as ever. With my hair, I… I really didn't have words. I felt thrilled, somehow entirely and not at all like myself at the same time. I really liked it.

I smiled and Mrs. Stanley, and she beamed back.

"That look," she said, "made it all worth it. You look great, sweetie."

Angela looked happy for me, almost teary, actually. I would have felt so myself, if Jess wasn't positively bouncing with excitement.

"I can't wait!" she crowed, all but dancing. "You are going to turn so many heads! It is going to be fabulous."

I excused myself to Jess's room to put on my dress and the hose, leaving the shoes for later. Coming back, I found Jess getting her makeup done by her mom, while Angela was doing her own makeup. She was taking Mrs. Stanley's advice, but she was doing it herself. Jess's makeup looked great, the very attention seeking flashy sort of look that she liked, but more professionally, and a bit more tastefully, done. All eyes went wide when they turned to me, and I was rather flattered. I could have disagreed or made some disparaging comment, but I didn't. I had decided to have faith. And, I did.

"Come keep me company while I get my dress on," Jess said, so I did.

I mostly kept my back to her, but I realized that Jess was just as immodest with her nudity as she was with everything else about herself. I couldn't help but notice her black thong when I went to go zip her up and it made me anxious for some reason. Jess and I hadn't ever talked about sex except in a sort of abstract way, and only enough to pretty much say, if not exactly say, that we were both virgins. The thought that her status might change tonight hadn't occurred to me. The thought of it was strange. For the first time, the idea of Jess no longer being a virgin and me still being one made me feel like I was being left behind. I had thought that sex wasn't a big deal, believed that I could go without it, for Edward, but for the first time, I realized that I would be missing out. I would be missing out on something, whether consciously or not, I had been looking forward to. It was part of growing up, becoming a woman, in ways I probably wouldn't understand until I actually had it, as my mom had said. For the first time, being with Edward felt like losing out on something. And, I didn't want to lose out on anything.

I realized that I was just standing there, and Jess was entirely dressed and had realized that I was just standing there, staring at nothing, lost in thought.

"Are you okay?" she asked, her voice rising at the end in sympathy. I swallowed and waved my hand at myself twice.

"Yeah," I said, shaking it off. "Yeah. I'm fine."

Jess handed me my replacement shoes.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked. "We have a little time."

I tried to think of anything that was safe to say. I couldn't tell her the truth, exactly, and the selfish notion of asking her not to lose her virginity tonight was the last thing I was going to say out loud, and then it clicked.

"Do you know what an Ace is?"

"Ace?" she asked, looking confused.

"Short of asexual," I said.

"Oh," she said, "then no."

"It is a person who isn't interested in sex," I said. "It's like someone who's sexual orientation includes no one."

"Oh," said Jess thinking about it. "That sounds horrible."

"Not to them," I said, a bit defensively.

"Oh," she said, as though understanding. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to-"

I shook my head, almost laughing at how much she was nearly freaking out.

"No," I said, my tone easier. "I'm not."

I sighed, "That's… kind of the problem."

Her eyes went wide.

"Oh," she said, real understanding coming into her eyes. "Oh god! No wonder he never dated anyone."

I shrugged, not about to correct her. She was less than half right.

"But," she asked, "then why did he start dating you?"

I looked hurt, but I wasn't thinking, just as she wasn't.

"Oh god!" she cried, looking mortified. "I'm such a bitch! Don't listen to me."

"No," I said, "it's okay. He's still hetero-romantic."

"Huh?" she said. She went to put on her own shoes.

"He has romantic interest," I said, "in girls."

"Oh," he said, "he just doesn't want to plow them."

"Jessica!" I said, sure I was blushing so violently, I was certain it was melting my makeup.

She grinned, "Would you prefer I said 'bone'?"

I was still pink.

"Shag?" she cut in, "Screwed? Hump? Nail? Lay? Bang? Boink?"

"Okay," I laughed, before she did something really embarrassing, like moan and make O faces.

Then, I remembered something.

"He said," I began, not sure how to phrase it.

"Yeah?" asked Jess, serious now.

"He…" I continued, "He said that we might… try… at some point, if that is what I wanted."

Jess considered this.

"No," she said. "I don't think you can do that."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

She sighed, taking up her own wrap as I did mine.

"Imagine if Edward were a girl," she said. "She was the same in every way, save for her gender."

I thought about it. The idea was interesting. He had grace and beauty a plenty now, and the idea of his raw, genteel masculinity turned to vulnerable, gentle femininity made me, at the very least, curious, but the more I thought about it, the more I understood what Jess was getting at.

"I think…" I said, trying to put it into words. "I think I would want to want to be with her more than I would want to be with her."

"Hmm?" Jess asked as we prepared to walk out of her room.

"I would want to be with her, not because I wanted to be with her," I explained, "but because I would want to be the sort of person who didn't care about gender. Also, I think, a little because I wouldn't want to lose her."

Jess raised her eyebrows and pressed her lips in an "I told you so" expression. I nodded.

For the first time, I realized that being with him the way I wanted and being with him were two different things, and the latter was less than I wanted, a reduction. Which meant one of two things. One, I didn't get to be with Edward or, two, I didn't get to have the kind of relationship I wanted. I didn't want to think about the former. The latter, I could consider.

"Okay," I said. "I'm ready."

We walked out into the living room. Mrs. Stanley looked like she was going to cry, and I missed my mom horribly.

"Pictures?" she asked, and I nodded. My mom would kill me if there weren't at least a few. She seemed as put out as Jess when I first told her I wasn't interested in school dances, but my mom never pushed. She would just die when I showed her these.

They snapped pictures, and when Angela came in from changing in the bathroom, we oohed and awed all of each other, posing together. At Jess's request, we did the whole Charlie's Angels pose and laughed and were having a good time when there was a knock at the door.

"I'll get it," said Mrs. Stanley meaningfully.

"Who do you think it is?" Jess asked.

I considered, "Probably Mike."

She laughed, "Please! Mike has never been on time for a single date since we-"

Mike walked in with Mrs. Stanley.

His hair was pretty much the same as he had at school. I couldn't tell how often he shaved, since his tow colored stubble was hard to see, but he was obviously better groomed than he usually was, his hair with more product and looking freshly barbered. He wore a nice suit, not a tux, but something that didn't look rented. It looked like a nice, non button-up shirt under his suit jacket, with a vest. It fit him really well, and he looked very good in it, his dress shoes polished. He turned and surveyed the room, and when his eye found Jess he smiled, until he got a good look at her, then his eyes bugged out a little. From the expression on Jess's face, she was more than a little pleased. She trip trapped her way to him as quickly as she could in heels on carpet before she hugged him, kissing him soundly. Her mother fussed and pulled lipstick out of a small clutch bag and told Jess to touch it up. Jess did, but not before beaming at Mike a bit more. Finally, he smiled and turned back to Angela and me.

"Wow," he said modestly. "Don't you ladies look nice?"

"Why, thank you, Michael!" said Mrs. Stanley teasingly.

We stepped back as she got pictures with just Jess and Mike, suddenly looking like she might cry again. It wasn't long before there was another knock at the door, but it was only Ben, Ang's date. The dark haired, dark eyed Ben was just a little below average height for a boy, but with Angela standing at over six feet tall, it was easy to see why she had decided to go with flats this evening. Was that why Alice gave me the shoes? Even so, they looked quietly happy to be together but were still in the slightly awkward "we can't believe our luck and don't want to mess this up" phase. Or, at least, Ben was, and Angela wasn't trying to rush him. They were pretty adorable together, actually.

"Where's Edward?" asked Jess. "It's almost sundown."

Oh. Right. Somehow, I hadn't even thought about that. I looked outside, to check how low the sun was and see if there were any accommodating clouds, and, to no one's surprise, I found a silver Volvo pulling up. The sun was below the hills and the tree line, no direct sunlight. It was time.

For some reason, I didn't want him to come to the door. He had never come to the door before, and somehow, I didn't want the first time he did it to be here, at a house that wasn't my home. So, I drowned out whatever talking was going on, and despite Jess not getting to share this particular moment with me, I stepped outside.

I moved to the edge of the porch, just before I had to step down onto the steps, my wrap drawn about my arms, held closed at my middle by one hand as I held the other behind my back. I stood with my weight mostly on my front foot, the other foot dragging, as though I had just taken a step and was possibly thinking of taking the step down towards him, unable to wait. My chin slightly tucked, sure that he could see me, I waited. I expected him to step out immediately. He didn't. It wasn't a long wait, but it was a bit longer than I would have thought. The moment before I became unsure, he came out.

Edward was… well, Edward. I was wearing a fitted tux, and wearing it very well. It showed off his trim waist and his shoulders, adding grace to him that usually was just limited to his motions. It had no tie, but a classic vest that matched my dress in color. I caught the flicker of light playing off cufflinks and what looked like a black stone in the top button hole of his short collar. But how good he looked was nothing to his expression.

He was… in awe. There was no better word for it. The expression was nearly reverent, as though he beheld something that was nearly inescapable proof of the divine. For a single instance, I wanted to argue, to say something disparaging, to cast doubt upon him and say that he was being unreasonable. And then, I didn't. I let go and let it be the gift it was.

He made it to the stairs before I realized I wasn't sure exactly how close he intended to get. I was still, apart from my free hand coming out to take his as he offered his opposing one. I let him turn me as he came up to stand beside me, as close as we were while walking together at school, only this time, he faced me. I realized then that difference in our heights was nearly the same as it always was, and it probably would have bugged me all night if it were different. I silently thanked Alice.

Edward took my hand gently, but his eyes upon my face were ever more gentle. He seemed to bask in my presence, soaking me in like a balm. He looked almost relaxed, or as relaxed as he ever got. And then, with such care, he leaned in. Before I could even comprehend what might be happening, he listed to one side. His lips on my cheek were cool and light, barely a flutter, which is nothing to the pounding of my hammering heart.

"Were that I a poet," he said, "with seven centuries of finely honed craft, I could not capture even a droplet in the ocean of your beauty."

Jess's badly contained squeal was the first indication that we weren't alone. But the very idea of turning away from Edward at that moment was one of the hardest things I had ever done. To my surprise, he squeezed my hand encouragingly, as though to say that I had all the time I could ever want to look into his eyes and that now, we had other things to do.

I turned. Mike stood behind Jess, his arms around her, hers around his, their every finger entwined. Angela held Eric's hand, but she looked more interested in him, and there was something reassuring about her, and he looked a little overwhelmed and grateful for the support. Mrs. Stanley was still taking pictures. If that moment Edward and I just had was truly captured by any degree, my mom would come back from the dead and die again.

"We should go," I said, Edward tucking my hand through his arm. The fabric of his tux was so soft and smooth. My voice bobbled as I felt it, because I thought about running my hands over all of it.

Jess had her clutch, which had our makeup and money, and Angela had a small purse with her too, and we were ready. Mrs. Stanley kept snapping pictures, and after more than a few calls for us to be good and stay safe, and a quick exchanged look with Jess about what sort of protection they might need and a faint blush from me which made her laugh, we all got into cars with high spirits.

As soon as we were in the car, Edward and I each said our own versions of "I missed you" at nearly the exact same time and we both smiled.

"Do you know where we are going?" I asked.

"Yes," he said. "Where all kids go to eat before the dance who can afford it."

I sighed, "The Lodge."

The Lodge was the most expensive place in town to eat, which, given Forks, wasn't saying that much. It also happened to be my father's favorite place to eat out. We only went on special occasions, which was fine by me since it's a bit rustic for me. I preferred my eateries with less animal parts on the walls.

"I almost brought my other car tonight," Edwards said.

My eyes went a little wide, "You have another car?"

He smiled, "Readily available, yes. This is the car I use for appearances sake, the one that doesn't stand out."

I considered the Volvo, shiny and sleek and expensive.

"Wait?" I frowned. "This is your wallflower car?"

He grinned, "As you say."

I almost lost my grip on the present.

"Why?" I asked.

"Why do I have a so-called wallflower car?" he asked.

"Why did you almost bring your other car?" I clarified.

He looked back to the road.

"I almost brought it because I thought you might feel special, driving in a car that is more expensive, more of an indulgence, one that would make you feel as though you deserve nice things and to be doted upon."

I smiled, "If you were to dote on me today, I think you might actually get away with it."

To my surprise, he pulled over.

"I have something for you," he said.

I suddenly felt like there was a frog in my throat.

"Oh?" I croaked, or maybe it was just the frog.

He smiled, "If it helps, you might think of this as a loan."

Somehow, that did make me feel better. Even if I had wanted to protest, he stifled me with that smile, happier than I think I had ever seen him. I just couldn't.

"As agreed," he continued, "I spent no money upon it. It was in my possession before our agreement. At the end of the night, it may return to my possession, yours to use whenever you should choose."

I couldn't quite be mad at him or keep the smile off my face.

"Turn," he instructed, and I did, putting my back to him. I felt body warmed links slide about my neck, a necklace of some kind. I felt his still cool fingers loop a clasp.

"There," he said, and I felt the back of a nail as he gave the back of one of my bare shoulders a grazing caress. I turned, flipping the visor and opening the mirror.

It was a vintage necklace. I could tell it was old, but it matched my hair, the gold and pearls. But I couldn't even be mad at Alice. It was beautiful. It was a large looped chain, each loop crossing at one end, one lead hooking to the previous loop, the other ending in a dual leafed little budded flower, each bud a pearl. There was a central loop with two flowers, the necklace symmetrical. I was speechless. I found it easiest to return to our previous topic.

"Why didn't you bring your other car?" I asked.

He smiled and returned to the road.

"This car," he said, sounding almost hesitant, as though he wasn't sure how to pick his words. I realized as he went on that it wasn't a lack of vocabulary or indecisiveness that had him pausing ever here and there; it was a lack of meaningfulness.

"This car," he said again, "this is the vehicle in which it all… happened. All the time I have spent with you… it was largely here, in this place. This is almost… our car as much as it was once mine. When I think of traveling with you, I think about riding beside you here. The conversations we have shared, the bits of ourselves we have exchanged… they are in some ways as ineffaceably linked to this conveyance as they are to us. On this night, our first sincere outing as a couple, it felt entirely wrong to use another apparatus."

I got it then, somehow, as if I had always known, as though I didn't even need his explanation.

"This car is a token," I said.

He looked at me in awe, "That is precisely correct."

I nodded, smiling.

"I agree," I agreed. "It would have felt wrong any other way."

"Exactly," he said, the single word sounding strangely modern coming from his lips, but as he squeezed my hand and I realized that my statement was true for more than just the car. My dress, my makeup, my hair, my companion, my ride, all of it, was to be as it was and any deviation would have felt wrong.

"I want to have sex," I said.

I don't know what I was expecting, but a reaction seemed the most likely. Edward hardly complied.

"I see," he said, then paused for several moments before asking, "May I have more information?"

"I do not expect you to have sex with me," I went on. "In fact, I think it would be pretty unfair to even ask. It would be like you asking me to try blood."

He winced, "Your analogy is sound, but still leaves something to be desired."

I nodded, "But, even if I am not asking you, I still want to. Have it, I mean. Or do it. Whatever."

He considered, "Why are you telling me this?"

I shrugged, "Because it is the truth. Because as much as I want to be with you, I know now that I can't have everything I want. Because I understand that I can only choose to be with you, not how it will be when I am. Because I understand that sometimes there might not be easy answers to some questions, but that doesn't change how I feel."

We turned into the Lodge's parking lot.

"How do you feel?" he asked.

"That I want to be your girlfriend," I said. "That I am grateful for what I have. That… I'm not owed a thing, not by you or anyone else."

He parked, "But you still want to have sex."

I nodded, "Yeah, I do. Well, more like… I want all of it."

"All of what?" he asked.

"The right of passage," I said. "The experience of it, sure, but also the closeness, the growth, the step in growing up and being human."

For a moment he looked ridget, "Bella, I can't do any of those things. I am a vampire."

I think it was the first time he had ever admitted that in so many words.

"I know," I said. "And I don't have an answer for this."

He seemed to understand, all at once. There really wasn't an answer. And that was okay. That was what having faith was all about.

"I sort of wish that I could," he said then. "Not that I can't, but really, I wish I could have it the way you do. Getting lost, feeling the pleasure, and intimacy, the contentment and the connection, all of it. For me, all I would be interested in would be the blood, and I couldn't feel the pleasure or the desire. Everything would be artifice, for your benefit, and while I have no problem participating in an act that benefits you nearly exclusively, there is no way that I know of to avoid wanting to kill you."

He pulled my hand to his lips, kissing the top of it.

"For now," he said. "This is what I can give."

He looked as though everything he was wanted to add the query, "Is it enough?" but he didn't. He looked into my eyes, and saw what I felt for him; the acceptance and the compassion and the affirmation. He knew the answer already.

"Shall we?" he asked, and we did.


	15. Chapter 15: Confession

We found the others waiting as the Lodge staff put together a table for us, seating six with two heads and two on each side. I wasn't sure who was going to sit were, but the others made the decision in short order. Jess more than anyone seemed torn. She wanted to sit by me, of course, but couldn't deny that the idea of sitting next to Edward had its merits as well. But there was no way to sit beside both and not one, excluding Mike, and two, prevent us from sitting together. As it turned out, when faced with the prospect of sitting beside Edward, easily the most attractive boy we had ever seen, and me, Jess surprised me.

"How can I abandon my bestie?" she whispered covertly, sitting beside me on one side of the table. Our dates took the heads of the table, which seemed to suit them just fine. Angela and Ben took the opposite side from us, with Ben closer to Mike. Angela paid almost no attention to Edward, only having eyes for her date. To be fair, Edward took a similar approach, though I did see him glance at Mike a time or two with something like regret. Jess and I chatted, her oohing over my necklace and us just generally having a good time. We ordered food, and Edward abstained because of "dietary reasons." At length, once we were fed and watered, or Soda-ed, in the case of everyone but me and Angela, we decided to take our leave and head to the dance.

The dance was at the school Gym, because of course, where else would it be? Driving up to school at night was somehow ominous, all the familiar cast in uncomfortable obscuration, which melted away the moment I looked over at Edward, hearing the music thrumming inside the Gym.

"You do realize this is going to spell doom for me, right?" I said, stepping out of the Volvo as he opened the door for me. He looked at me, his expression torn between distress and wondering if he should be truly distressed.

"How so?" he asked.

I grimaced, only somewhat insincerely, "Nothing good has ever happened to me in a Gym."

He grinned, and I was in real danger of breaking my ankle before we even got to the dancing part. Him having my arm helped a bit. I was about to step forward when his arm pulled. He wasn't walking. I looked over at him, questioning. He was looking around, as though checking if the coast was clear.

"Edward," I asked, unsure.

"Here," he said, turning me to face him. "Do you trust me?"

My eyes went a little wide, "To a point, but mostly yes."

He grinned, "You will not come to harm with me tonight. I promise."

There was a rush, and suddenly, we weren't standing in the parking lot anymore. We were in the field to one side, out of the range of the lights. I felt the whip of the wind, as though an afterthought, as though it passed directly into my memory without me actually sensing it happen. I blinked, looking at Edward.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

A thousand questions flew through my mind. But, all I did was nod. Faith.

He pulled my up, deftly, as he had the fateful day they did blood typing in Biology. Granted, a lot more of my back and shoulders were bare this time, even with my wrap, and I felt a little more self conscious with the dress I was in, but I felt safe with Edward. I felt him bend, as though to kneel, and then we were aloft.

We shot upwards, faster than I would have thought possible, but slowing, all the same. There was a moment when I was having trouble not letting out some sort of vocal cry, a whimper or a gut-turning, blood-curdling scream; we weren't 747 high, but we were certainly skyscraper high, minus the skyscraper.

Slowly, we decelerated, slower, and slower, in such a way that it seemed as though time were slowing as well. Finally, we stopped moving upwards altogether, and we hung in the air.

For a moment, I just looked into Edwards face. Granted, there were only two other places I could look at the moment, and while looking up at the night sky might have been nice, it didn't compare to his face. The other option was not a possibility.

"You are frightened," he said.

I looked at him as though he had just suggested that the Earth was round and orbited the sun.

"I told you," he said, "you are safe with me tonight."

I swallowed. Then, I let myself look past him.

The moon was the barest hint of a waxing crescent, all but invisible. The clouds were wispy and thin, not nearly enough to blot out the wash of stars. The bowl of the sky was so vast, yet felt close enough to touch if just out of arm's reach. He shifted me so that I was vertical, so that I might look about without strain to my neck. His hands settled about my hips, and suddenly I was not so concerned with things that were as far away as the stars.

He looked into my eyes, the night shining in his. And then, he laughed. It was a quiet thing, full of such self deprecating delight. He shook his head.

"You will have to forgive me," he said. "Twice over."

"For?" I asked, so enraptured by him, I wasn't sure I could say more at that moment.

"Firstly," he said, "for my entire lack of patience."

I give him a look that clearly says, "Go on."

He smiled, dropped his eyes for a moment, then returned them to mine.

"Originally," he said, "I wanted this moment to be at the end of our night, in the chief place as the most important part. But I have waited for this confession for so long now, I couldn't wait any longer. And second…"

He brought up one of his hands to stroke my face. I found that both of mine came up to meet his, one on his wrist and the other his forearm. I needed the gratification of the closeness, not the security such a grasp would afford me at that moment. My eyes closed that I might focus more completely on his touch to my face. His hand settled and he waited for me to have my fill and return to him before he went on.

"Second," he reiterated, "for my impertinence. I have rehearsed countless monologues within my thoughts, trying to perfect the words I would speak, here and now. Alas, I completely missed that the perfection of this moment was not in my ardent pronouncements or my quippy diction, but was in you. In me, in… us. Every moment we are together is a gift, and I seem to have forgotten that."

"You are forgiven," I said thoughtlessly.

He grinned, "It always began the same way; commenting that the last time we were up here, the night that I confessed that which I am, was not the most comfortable memory."

"I tried to throw myself out of a car," I said, sounding amazed, both by my boldness and my stupidity.

He laughed, "Before you tried to allow yourself to fall."

I felt my feet, drifting upon nothing, my dress bumping about my legs. I felt like we were drifting almost, like we were floating in air thick as water, but without the freezing to death and all, since it was Washington.

"The day we met," he said, "I almost made this moment impossible."

"You wanted to kill me," I said carelessly.

He smiled again, but it was a brittle thing, a sad smile, "That day and every day since. On that day, Alice interceded on my behalf. I wouldn't have lasted the day. When I say that I want to kill you, I have not fully conveyed that to you, out of fear. I…"

I felt him shutter, as though speaking the words was too close to the act for him to bare.

"I want your blood more than anyone I have ever encountered, more than any vampire I have encountered has ever wanted blood. You are a beacon to me, a flame to my moth, the most dastardly drug I never knew I was addicted to, before I met you."

He inhaled, a look coming across his face that I could not fully discern.

"Your scent is the most enticing fragrance ever," he admitted. "Had someone conveyed onto me your existence and its effect upon me before our meeting, I would have thought the jest in the poorest of tastes."

He grinned, and I considered, "Why are you telling me this?"

He nodded, "Because I want nothing but fearless honesty between us."

I nodded too, allowing him to continue uninterrupted.

"I had to leave," he said, and the thought of his absence still twisted in me. "Or else I would have sought out your death that night. I, who had prided myself for nearly a hundred years on only taking the lives of murderers and would-be murderers, was willing to seriously entertain the notion of killing every single person in that Biology classroom if it would mean having you. Once it was night, even without my ability to read your mind or compel you, would have had no problem being invited into your home and-"

"Hey," I said, reading his face. There was a tension there, a sort of edge to his voice.

He blinked, "I'm sorry?"

I looked into his face, "You are… I'm not sure. Losing yourself… in the details somehow. I can see it on you. You are… distressing yourself, needlessly."

He drew back. Not away from me, but from himself, his thoughts.

"And you brought me back," he said simply, awed.

I smiled, "I want to hear what you have to say, but not if it will do you undue harm."

He nodded, "As always, you are better at this than I am."

I laughed. God, I wanted to kiss him!

"I traveled out of state," he continued, "to other vampires we know and who share a passion for abstaining from blood. It seemed the best place to be for me, save for…"

He glanced at me, "Tanya."

Never had a name so immediately and completely captured my attention.

He laughed. It was so disarming, I felt myself blush at my previous reaction.

"I have never once, even before I met you," he explained, "showed even the slightest interest in her. Though never have we ever been in the same room before without her showing hers in me."

He winced, "Her thoughts are very loud and distracting, and for once, I needed distraction."

"From?" I asked, ironically, because I was by her as well.

"From you," he teased.

Oh, right.

"In my time there, I wasn't truly away from you," he went on. "I was nothing short of obsessed. Who were you, this seemingly common girl who stepped out of mundanity, immune to my chiefest gift in maintaining my family's anonymity, yet smelt so sweetly that I would accept innocent death in magnitudes for the opportunity to taste it? Hey."

The last word caught me unawares, its tone gentle. My head had been filled with "common girl" and "mundanity". He had brought me back.

"Right," I said, feeling him resettle his hand upon my face. It grounded me better than if he would have let go. Rimshot.

"I'm back," I said smiling. He didn't ask.

"I soon found myself wanting to come back," he said, "not to kill you, but to root out the mystery that was you. I was sure that some part of me… no, I was sure that I was lying to myself about how much of my intent was to put me in the same town, the same place, the same room with you, but I didn't dwell upon it. So, I returned, under the watchful eye of my family and taking every precaution I could not to be tempted."

It was my turn to not ask.

"The next part of this story you know," he said. "I came back and met you properly. What you didn't know was that my obsession was still in full swing. I stalked you through the mental spaces of everyone who saw you. I absorbed the thoughts of every person who thought of you. I knew more about you than any one person could."

I should have been slightly creeped out by this, but again, I was flattered. Then something came back to me.

"Which is why you knew I preferred Bella," I said.

He chuckled, "One of my many blunders. And, naturally, you caught it immediately. Which only made you more interesting to me. I was looking forward to finally, finally getting answers to all my questions, to being able to speak to you myself, so, naturally, the very next day-"

"I was nearly crushed to death," I conclude.

He smiles, "That day… I almost lost it, lost you. What were you thinking?"

The moment was branded into my brain.

I snorted, "Probably the same thing you were."

He looked shocked, "Which was?"

I smiled, "That the most tragical part of the whole getting crushed to death wasn't the whole dying thing; it was not getting to be in Biology."

He continued to look shocked, then burst out a laugh I was sure they heard on the ground.

"You aren't entirely incorrect," he chortled. "In truth, I didn't really consider anything. I mean to say, I acted without any regard to repercussions. I used abilities that no human ever could, my only thought being your safety and wellbeing, even to the exclusion of my own."

He shook his head, his expression almost grim, "And then, when you wanted only truth, all I saw was that I expected to see; a typical girl, looking for drama and sensationalism and way to buoy herself out of the commonplace by any means necessary. By all that is holy, I knew you so poorly. When I rebuffed you, not only did you not cast petulance against me, you demanded I better myself and forced me to confront my fear and foolishness. Again and again, you were not as I thought you would be."

I nodded, "And then you went to ignoring me completely."

Something in his face changed. It was there and then it was gone.

"What?" I asked, perplexed.

"First," he said, "there was the blowout with my family."

I winced. I hadn't thought about that.

"I bet that was fun," I noted.

"Oh, they were prepared," he said. "We are always prepared to leave at a moment's notice. Given you, we had plans in place should that I fail from the moment I decided to return. The only concern was when and if we should leave. There was much fruitless debating, but in the end, we decided to stay."

"Why?" I asked, baffled.

"Alice," he sighed.

I smirked, "She saw you all stay."

He gave me his favorite lopsided grin, "She said that if we stayed, one day I would fall in love with you."

He couldn't have shocked me more than if he had dropped me.

I tried, I really did, but at best, I made some sort of twittery vowel sounds.

"I… you…" I stammered.

He just grinned.

"I was against it," I said, "determined to believe that it wasn't possible or, at the very least, you were undeserving of my monstrous affections. But my parents were supportive, and I was left to determinedly fight fate."

"Why?" I asked again.

He looked deep into my eyes, "Have you truly never thought about the future?"

I looked at him, "Edward, when I look into the future, there is only one thing I want; you. Everything else is a detail I can work out when it happens."

He looked at me, something hard about his expression, but giving way to something soft.

After a very long pause, so long that I was about to ask, he finally spoke again.

"Please understand," he said, "that I have been very determined not to bring this up unnecessarily, for reasons I will explain directly. But first, may I ask, how would you feel if I were to commit suicide?"

I felt like I have been suckerpunched.

"What?" I half stammered, half shrieked. "Why?"

"Would any reason change your reaction?" he asked.

It took me a moment to get my thoughts back into order.

"I… no," I finally said. "I would do whatever I could to prevent it."

He nodded, "And I have done the same, by omission."

"How so?" I asked, trying not to sound suspicious.

He took a deep breath, "From the moment I saved your life, I Alice foresaw only two outcomes for you. Death."

I frowned, "That is only one."

He waited. I considered his word. One, he kills me, that much was obvious. How else could I die? Why bring up suicide? How or why could I die by choice-

I got it then. I thought about it. I wondered for a moment why I hadn't thought about it before. Maybe I really didn't want to consider it because if I did, like the very idea of being with Edward had been in the beginning, it would be that much worse if I never got to have it. Now, I thought about becoming a vampire.

I understood it, why so many people might want it. The eternal life, the eternal beauty. The freedom from societal constraints. I was pretty sure having the power and strength, the speed and resiliency that Edward had demonstrated on multiple occasions would be enough to have many people lining up. There was a cost, surely, but many would pay more than the occasional death to have access to that kind of unlife. I was sure that there were more than a few who would have thought it wasn't a price at all. But I couldn't help but see it in one way and one way only.

I could stay with Edward. We would be the same, and together, forever. And, that was it; that was my deepest darkest secret, the one that I could have exchanged for the knowledge of what Edward was, all those days ago in the Library. I was willing to die, to become a potential murderer, to have and keep Edward forever. I wanted it so badly, I could not even acknowledge the desire for fear of not getting it.

"Neither option was something I could endure," he said.

And just like that, the pain of losing that path ripped through me.

"Bella," he all but cried, pulling me to him. I didn't even know I was crying until the tears were running and only until I was fully in his arms did the first sniffle work its way out.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled.

"What is it?" he asked, caressing my back. God, he smelled amazing!

At length, I finally pulled back and he wiped my tears away. I thought about how to explain.

"What price would you pay to become human?" I asked.

He looks slightly startled.

"I am not sure," he said, the situation dawning on him, "I guess I never thought about it."

I nodded, "But the price was not something I could endure."

I saw the expression cross his face, a flash of frustration and exasperation and denial and pain.

"I see your point," he said, "moot as it is. Vampires cannot become human."

He looked down and shook his head, "And I could never do something as selfish as risk your soul just so that I could keep you forever."

When he put it like that, I guess I couldn't hold it against him too much.

And then, it clicked.

"That is why you ignored me?" I asked. "You were determined not to do anything that might risk either option?"

Again, he laughed, "I think I am finally understanding you. You are the truest person I have ever known."

He shook his head, "For thirty four days, I did all in my power to deny. I denied you, the future, myself, everything. I never once looked upon you with my own eyes, not even when you would never know. I made no restraint upon looking through anyone else's, so, as my only reprieve from the penance of causing either death, I learned you as best I could."

He looked deep into my eyes.

"I learned that you were kind, truly. I learned of your unconscious compassion and fair mindedness. I learned that you never once went back on your word to keep my secret, even when I made it all the more clear every day that I would never again be in your favor. I learned that you are intuitive and thoughtful and observant beyond words. You ask for nothing from your friends save equality and freedom of choice, and above all things, you are good and entirely yourself in a way that I never knew existed before I met you.

"I was content with my lot. Watching and waiting and not doing anything. I felt as though I would fly apart if I did nothing but also if I moved an inch in any direction. It was the epitome of an unstoppable force meeting an immovable object, but I had everything under control for my part, until the dance was announced."

He sighed, smiling, "And the line formed."

I shook my head, wanting to shake off the idea.

"I was in a constant state of agitation. As you so aptly pointed out, I had been jealous of Mike for weeks, for he was doing all that I longed for. He spoke to you, took utterly for granted that he could ask you questions and have them answered. He only cared that he might have you, an empty possession without a thought for your feelings or thoughts or personhood. And yet, I had nothing to fear. You turned him down. And you seemed happy to do it. Was it simply for the sake of your friend? Were you happier alone? For all my desire for you to reject him, it made things worse, not better. Without a care for all the work I had done, I spoke to you. I folded in just over a month."

He grinned one of the broadest smiles I had ever seen on him, "And you didn't give me an inch."

I grinned at the memory, saying affectionately, "Stupid dazzling boy."

"Then you- dazzling?" he cut himself off.

I felt my cheeks pink.

"Um… yeah," I said.

He just stared at me, obviously not going on without an explanation.

"What?" I said defensively, my pink creeping towards vermilion. "You are a very attractive person. You know this. I know this. As though you haven't noticed the effect you have on everyone who includes male in their orientation."

He smiled lightly, "But my appearance has never mattered to you."

I take a deep breath, shuddering a bit with brisk air.

"Just because I never let what I think about your appearance dictate my decisions does not mean I do not think about your appearance," I say, wondering if that makes any sense.

He considers that.

"Okay," he said smiling.

"What!?" I belted out, beyond flustered. "So, yeah, sometimes it is hard for me to form coherent thoughts around you and there was a time there that I had to not look at you in order to actually speak. But that was before. I have gotten used to it. Mostly. I am sure that if I was apart from you for any length of time, I would have to get used to it all over again."

He laughed quietly.

"I know exactly what you mean," he said.

My head came up sharply, "Huh?"

He caressed my face again, "I have always been enraptured by you. From the beginning. It wasn't your uncomplicated beauty that drew me to you at first, regardless, but from the day I met you, my life has been oriented to you."

He sighed, and a nearly stricken expression crossed his face. Before I could decide how best to comfort him or take that look from him, he went on.

"Which is why it was so painful to me to see the boys line up," he said. "At that time, I was too selfish in my coveting of you. I saw each as a potential rival, and ones who would never care about you, not as I might, not as someone who truly saw you as I did."

He caressed my face. I felt warm and rather shivery.

"I followed you that day in person as I had in the minds of everyone around you in the month before, in part to allow each who had the courage to ask their chance and in part because I wanted to bare witness myself."

I had to interrupt, "'Had the courage to ask'?"

He grinned broadly, "I swear, you will never see yourself clearly. Many boys didn't."

I frowned, "How is that any different from the heaps and heaps of girls and likely a few guys who want to ask you out?"

He shook his head, "Your deflections are admirable but unfounded. Is there anything I could say or do to convince you that you are desirable on mass?"

For a moment, I thought through what he said seriously.

"Should it matter?" I asked.

Almost frowned in consideration.

"I would like you to clearly see the effect you have on those around you," he rephrased.

"Why?" I asked.

He thought some more, his face finally returning to earnestness, "Because it is important that your own predisposed notions not color the truth. You are an honest person. Can you not be honest about things that might do you good as well?"

That was something to wrap my head around. It was hard for me to believe that I was desirable, mostly because I hadn't ever experienced it before. Before I came here, boys never really showed interest in me, and even when they did, Edwards assertion was right; they didn't really care about me.

"It doesn't matter," I said. He looked to be about to protest when I went on.

"If they cared about me, really cared," I said, "it would actually affect me. They would support me and be a friend to me, and that would be important. I care about their deeds and their behavior. It doesn't matter to me at all if their affections come to nothing. If you spend your whole life caring about something and do nothing about it, it comes to nothing."

He stilled and slowly nodded, "I will never not be amazed by you, Isabella Swan."

And thus, I had found the only person who could say my name without me minding.

"And that was my problem," he said.

I came back to his story, unsure, "Hm?"

He gave me that crooked smile, "Jealous as I was, how would it be if one came forward who did care about you? I had made it my lot in life to be what you had so aptly pointed out was pointless. I was to live in your shadow, doing nothing for I could not stand what outcomes that were possible. But that would mean that some day, someone might ask who would actually deserve your returned affections. Someone would come to you, basking in your glory as I have and do, ask for your favor, and you would give it to them. In my selfishness, all I could see was what I would lose, and not what you would gain. The very thought of watching one give you all that I wanted to and could not was intolerable. Bearing witness to it, I believed, would destroy me."

He looked deep into my eyes, his filled with a remembered sadness, one that twisted my heart but seemed to cause him little pain.

"So," he seemed to conclude, "I decided to leave. I decided that I could never give you any of what you deserved. I was, after all, a loathsome creature, a monstrous fiend of hell and the night. How could I ever matter to someone as honest and true as you? I wanted to say goodbye, but I knew that if I stayed to do it, I might lose my nerve, that I might cause you more grief after being so rude and unfair to you. Not wanting to drag it out, I sought you out in the night. One last look would be all I needed, then I could go.

"I found you sleeping. I hung at your window, distasteful as it was, watching you as you slept. I was about to leave when I heard you speak."

He couldn't keep the smile off his face, nor I off mine.

"I was too captivated, unable to not remain. So I did, enraptured even before you spoke my name."

He looked awed, "You said my name, and it was evident from your tone and breathing and heart rate, you were not having a nightmare, the sort of dream I would have attributed myself to. And at that moment, I knew."

His eyes shone with reflected starlight, vast and full and open and clear. It floored me, so much so that I had trouble getting the words out.

"Knew what?" I all but whispered.

He tucked a crooked finger under my chin, tilting my head more surely towards his.

"I knew that I loved you."

He leaned in, slowly, allowing me time to rebuff him if I wished. I didn't. And there, hanging in the sky, somewhere between heaven and earth, Edward Cullen kissed me.


	16. Chapter 16: The Dance

Forks was beautiful from that angle. It looked so small and yet large before us. It seemed entirely accessible, as though there were no walls or borders, no boundaries or property lines. Everything was laid before us, dotted with its own set of light, like stars reflected, shining in the inverted night-face that was the countryside around it. It made me feel peaceful.

I vaguely recalled being in Edwards embrace, my eyes finally falling down without fear. Wordlessly, he seemed to grasp what I was doing, and shifted himself around me, his arms about my waist and shoulders as we began to descend. At last, we set feet to ground once again in the parking lot at school.

"Bella," he said into the night, coming to stand before me. "Is anything the matter?"

I hadn't spoken, not since before the end of his confession and that kiss. I wasn't sure if there was a way to be ready for something like that. His lips, so shockingly cool and smooth, firm and yet yielding. I felt found and lost all at once, like coming home and being somewhere I had never been before. Since that moment, I wasn't sure I had had a more complex thought than noticing the reality before me.

"No," I said simply. "I haven't really been thinking much of anything."

He grinned, "I am not sure if that is heartening or maddening."

I smiled too.

Then, one singular fact came crashing down upon me.

Edward had said he loved me. There was, traditionally, a pretty specific response to that; a response that I had not provided.

"No, Bella," he said, taking both my hands in his. "No. I did not say what I said in order for you to respond in any way. As I said when I told you that you did not trust me, I did so because it was true, not because I need anything from you or so that you would change or tell me what you thought I wanted to hear. None of that interests me. I love you, without needing a single thing from you."

That was good. I needed that. I had some thinking to do, and I wasn't up to speaking yet. He seemed to understand completely. I was starting to wonder if he had finally learned to read my mind.

"Shall we?" he asked, dropping one hand to step to his usual place at my side. He kept that hand to steady me as I refitted my shoes in place. Not standing in the shoes for as long as I had had shifted them about a bit. Once secured, and Edward had tucked my wrap into place, we walked to the Gym.

We joined the students still in the lot who were starting to meander in, some in groups but mostly in pairs, their voices already starting to carry in their simple exuberance, or perhaps to combat the increasingly loud music. I felt a part and apart, at once. I was with them, but I was with him too. As we walked, I wondered which I felt more in the moment, but before I could answer, I decided it didn't matter; I could be both tonight, as I wished.

I noticed that as we approached the lights of the doors, more than a few students fell silent. We walked inside, and I covertly whispered, "You are causing quite the stir with your tux…"

He laughed, quietly but less covertly, before turning, putting his mouth to my ear, and it took me several seconds longer to process his words while tendrils of cool air whispered down my neck and across my hair.

"You don't see yourself clearly," he had said. "They aren't looking at me, Bella."

Okay, so maybe I was getting more attention than I expected. I mean, seriously, I had spent most of my life as a wallflower. No… that wasn't it. I had spent most of my life wanting to be a wallflower. This… this was new. I wasn't fading in any more. This was my first night willingly stepping into the spotlight. I squeezed Edward's hand, mostly to reassure myself that I wasn't alone. Then, we walked inside the gym proper.

It was hard to tell if our entrance created much of a stir, what with the noise already going on inside. There was a pretty hopping dance number going on, and most people had their boogie shoes on. I thought for a moment that no one would notice us, until I heard a delicate scream of enthusiasm. Before I could do more than register the sound, I was caught up in a thin pair of cold arms as I was all but accosted by Alice.

"You look amazing!" she squealed as she pulled back to look at me again, her voice carrying over the music. I was pretty sure she had just deliberately subjected me for scrutiny to every single person in earshot. I was desperately trying not to care.

"Bella," she said more quietly, "You are with Edward now. You are going to have to get used to the limelight at some point."

I sighed and huffed a light laugh under my breath, finally smiling. Alice beamed at me.

Jess and the others walked up, looking somehow even more glamorous and at home under the dim colored lights occasionally cut through with bright white spotlight and the flash of cameras. The music seemed to permeate me, giving everything a slightly bubbly feeling. Someone more prone to feeling comfortable in their body might have wanted to dance, and they did! I couldn't count the number of kids dancing on the main floor. I couldn't even name them. It was obvious even kids who didn't go here were in attendance.

I suddenly wondered why I didn't invite Jacob to come. I mean, I didn't think Edward would mind. He seemed to be doing just fine with Mike here, and I was sure that we could all be friends had he come. I felt… I didn't know, sort of like I was okay being selfish. I knew that it might cause friction or that it might be a little uncomfortable, but for some reason, that didn't seem like such a big deal.

"Where were you?" Jessica asked me, a meaningful tone to her low voice she probably thought I was the only one who could hear.

"I'll tell you later," I said, smiling. She relented, for now.

We found and commendered a table, not far from the one that the rest of the Cullen's had claimed. I couldn't look at Rosalie for long, lest I find myself bespelled by her in her red dress and doubting every aspect of my body. I had the feeling that if it wasn't for Emmett, looking like a boulder even in a tux, she would be completely swarmed by boys. Jasper danced with Alice to one side of the crowd, oddly subdued next to Alice who seemed to exult in the act so many around her took for granted. He danced beside her almost vicariously, as if his joy was only hers reflected, though he would have it all the same.

"Are you good?" Jess asked, bent so that I might hear her, her hand still clasped in Mike's, a look of eagerness upon her.

"Go," I said, and she looked torn until Edward shifted, catching her attention.

"Okay," she said, smiling fully and stepping back. "Are you coming?"

I looked out onto the dance floor.

"In a minute," I said, knowing I would just as soon step into a bear trap as onto that dance floor. She grinned, as though unsurprised, then stepped off, the others in tow. I watched them go, not sure how to follow.

Edwards lips at my ear stirred shivery air about me.

"Do you want to go with them?" he asked patiently. "Or do you simply want to want to go with them?"

I considered his questions.

"It is more as though I want to go but don't know how," I said back, not concerned that it would be hard for a human to hear my quiet words against the noise of the music. "Today and tonight have been so great already. I don't want to do anything to screw that up."

I felt his hands on my arms and realized that mine were wrapped tightly around myself, almost tangling my wrap. His hands drifting up under said wrap and touching my bare skin was, I think, far more suggestive than her meant it. It was certainly enough to break me out of my funk.

"How the night progresses is not within your control," he pointed out, "nor will it change what has transpired so far."

I snort, "But breaking my ankle would really put a damper on the rest of the night."

"I told you," he said. "I will let nothing bad befall you tonight."

I looked at him, "That is not within your control."

He smiled, "Maybe not. You might just have to trust me."

I looked into his eyes, his caring, warm, dark, deep, beautiful eyes.

"I don't know if I love you," I said, the thoughts just spilling out of me, like they usually did him, in a rush.

"I want to," I continued, "but it isn't enough to believe that I want to; I actually want to. But I don't understand what it really means to love you, not yet, and until I truly understand it, I can't say it back. I don't want to say it just to say it unless I am sure it is true. I will never fake my feelings, not for anyone or anything."

He leaned in and kissed my cheek, "You are so very thoughtful and wise, my Bella."

Okay, so, I was kinda okay being called his. I knew it wasn't a possession thing. He was stating a fact that I had chosen, freely. I liked being his. Then, an odd thought trickled through my brain. Was Edward mine?

Suddenly a popular song came on. I could tell because it was very jumpy and catchy and everyone was suddenly in an uproar in their enthusiasm. In moments, I felt a tug on my wrap, and turned to see Jess pull it away and set it on a chair. Suddenly, her hand was in mine and I was going with her or I was losing the arm. I turned to see Edward trailing after me, needing no such pull. And abruptly, we were in the crowd.

I wasn't sure what to pay attention to. It was loud and fast and this close to the speaker, I could feel the music as much as hear it. There was so much going on, it was torrential, as though trying to take it all in would require four more eyes, a few more sets of ears and an extra brain or two. There wasn't time to think or time to worry or care. We were towards the front, close to where a DJ had set up on the roll out stage that was normally folded into one wall. I was pressed next to Jess as the music began to build and was taken aback as I realized that Alice was on the other side of me, in similar states of delight. Hands went over heads as the song peaked and burst forth in exuberance as those around me did the same. They weren't dancing so much as just moving, as though the feelings within them were too much, too intense to express in any other way. They jumped and they threw up their hands and shook and twisted, part of the music and the crowd more than they seemed a part from it. And with Jess and Alice beside me, and Edward at my back, I let go. I let myself be apart from myself and a part of them for a time. It was scary and thrilling and fun and funny and freeing and made sense. I understood why Jess loved this and why she wanted me here and why she couldn't or wouldn't put this into words; it would have paled in comparison and was best left to experiencing it.

I wasn't sure how long we were out there. The next song was just as thrilling, as was the third. I have never heard them before or, at least, hadn't paid attention to their lengths. But the fourth, apparently, was not up to Jess's standards, and I found her pulling me off the dance floor. We found Mike waiting with a cup of punch for Jess. Edward met my eyes, and I realized I was sweating a bit and was parched. He smiled, and went to get me something to drink.

I was about to ask Mike why he hadn't been dancing when-

"Hey, good-lookin'," said someone beside me. I didn't like how familiar his tone was, until I realized how familiar his voice was. I turned and found myself facing Jacob.

There really wasn't any other way to put it. Jacob looked hot. He wore a pair of jeans and dark sneakers, I thought, though it was hard to tell in the dim light. He wore a light, both in color and thickness, button up shirt that didn't really fit him, which was to say that it was bunched and loosely tucked in at his trim waist and tight across his chest, one button too many unbuttoned for what was a formal dance. His sleeves were rolled to the elbow, exposing wiry, toned forearms, probably from all the work he did on cars. On one wrist was a braided leather bracelet, hung with something that looked wooden and carved, but it was hard to tell what it was. Around his neck was a similar necklace, looped through with shells and with a hung sand dollar. He was clean shaven, though there wasn't much to shave, and the front and top of his hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail, leaving the back free. In the thinner shirt and with more of his arms exposed, he cut quite the impressive figure. But it was his confident, devil may care posture that was so entirely Jacob that really hammered it home.

"I was here," he said, his tone teasing in the way it almost always sounded, "looking for my friend Bella, but since she wouldn't be caught dead dancing or all dolled up, my guess is she decided not to turn up. So, I figured, since I am the best looking guy here, it was only fair that I ask the best looking girl to dance with me."

I smiled, shaking my head, "I can't agree with that."

"What?" he said, overly loud, as though to be heard over the music. "You can't argue with that? Why thank you!"

I giggled.

"Bella," said Jess, "who is your friend?"

"Hey," said Jacob, with a charming smile that was just this side of inviting. "I'm Jacob."

He made the introduction for both Jess and Mike and shook his hand, his gaze cutting across Jess in a politely appreciative smile. I could tell immediately that Mike wasn't sure how to feel about him.

"You're from the res?" asked Mike.

Jacob laughed, "Duh!"

He made it funny and obvious and some of the tension lifted.

"Friend of the family," he said. "I've known our little Bella here since she was… well, more little."

"Shut up," I admonished, pushing at his arm.

I felt a hand at my back, cool and felt stilled by it. His other had come around me, proffering my drink unobtrusively. I took it and sippied the sugary beverage that was so sweet, it almost hurt my teeth.

"Hey," said Jacob.

"Hello, Jacob," he said back, his tone pleasant. "I didn't know you would be here."

He smiled, "I unpredictable like that."

A slow song came on, just as I was finishing my punch. I could feel Edward moving behind me, knew that he was about to ask, which was why it was so abrupt when Jacob got there first.

"Do you want to dance with me, Bella?" asked Jacob. Edward stilled next to me, too close and to one side for me to see where he was looking.

"I…" I stammered, looking to Edward.

Jacob did too, "Does she need your permission or something?"

Edward looked relaxed, "I believe she was just being polite."

I looked back at Jacob. He seemed relaxed too.

"Hey," he said, "it is just a question. Do you want to?"

I did, actually. I knew that, but the words were having trouble getting out. Why was that?

"Hey," he said again, the word lighter by his tone deeper, comforting. "It's okay. My ego can take it if you say no."

He wasn't asking me to dance with him. He was asking me if I wanted to dance with him. There was a world of difference there. I looked to Edward, and he smiled my favorite lopsided smile.

"And my ego can take it if you say yes," he said, his words lyrical and perfect. Without additional thought, I stepped from Edward to Jacob.

"Don't worry, Eddie," Jacob said, his tone light and teasing, typical Jacob. "I'll have her back before you turn into a pumpkin."

Edward just smiled back, "See that you do, Jay Jay."

Jacob froze, blinked, but kept walking.

"Your boyfriend's creeptastic," he said, as he led me to the nearest edge of the dance floor, and turned to face me. I wasn't sure if it was so I couldn't see Edward or if it was so I could see the majority of the people in the room, but it felt purposeful somehow.

"Oh?" I asked almost slyly. "How so?"

"Jay Jay is what my dad used to call me when I was a kid," he explained. He took my hand and put the other at my back. I don't think either of us were ready for his hand to touch my bare skin. After a beat of silence in which we stared to see the others' reaction, we started to dance. And by dance, I mean we sort of swayed a little back and forth in the same spot.

"Well," I said, knowing full well that there was every chance in the world that Edward had picked it out of Billy Black's mind. "You familiarized his name, and he did the same with yours. If you can't take it, don't dish it."

He laughed, "See, that is what I like about you Bella. You use the right words."

I frowned at him, "As opposed to the wrong ones?"

He shook his head, "Do you know how many of my friends have ever said familiarized? Probably none, even at school. Yet, you used it and in the next sentence, sound like you're a greaser."

I giggled, "I just read a lot."

"And can't take a compliment," he said playful.

I give him a sideways look, "Or I just don't react the way you want."

The barb didn't touch his good humor.

"I just want you to accept the good things about you is all," he said. "What I said was a fact that just so happened to be a compliment. You should have someone in your life who points out the good things about you, just in case you can't see them yourself."

I smiled, "I do. Thank you."

He smiled, "Was that so hard?"

"Oh, shut up," I said.

"So, enough about Mister Fancy-Pants-With-Too-Much-Money," he said dismissively, then sincerely, "how are you doing? It seems like forever since we really talked."

"It has been like two days," I said skeptically.

"I know," he said smiling, "if feels like forever! But that isn't what I meant. I mean really talked."

I thought about that, "Have we ever really talked?"

He looked thoughtful himself, "We did, a couple of times, when we were kids. There weren't many times when it was just you and me, but they did happen. I liked you better than when we hung out with my sisters. You performed less."

"'Performed'?" I asked.

"You were trying to behave the way a younger girl did around older girls," he explained. "You were less you."

I remembered when I gave that up. There was this girl in Middle School, Lizzy something, Tabor I think, who invited me to a sleepover. She was the popular girl and said that it was a special occasion and to get dressed up and gave me her address. So, when I showed up in new pajamas and a nice sleeping bag to a house in the seedier side of town where she didn't live and with a rather abrasive, possibly intoxicated guy at the door, I was crushed. The whole way there, my mom had been telling me that she didn't think this was right, but I had been sure. I had insisted. And it had all been a trick. I hated slumber parties and I had never had a whole conversation with her in my life. But I had thought that it was my chance to be one of the girls. Not one of the popular girls, just a girl. Not someone standing on the outside, looking in, for once.

The next day at school, I smiled and said hi and seemed completely unphased by her laughter at my expense. It tripped her up and she never talked to me again. From that day on, I decided to stick closer to what made me happy first, and decide who to trust better. I believed I had done both really well so far. That was why I was here.

"What about you?" I asked teasingly back. "You seem to be Mister Performance."

"What?" he asked, a slightly confused and defensive edge to the word. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, please," I said, practically giggling. "If you got a bigger head, it wouldn't stay on your shoulders!"

He sort of grinned sheepishly.

"Okay," he conceded. "I have been tooting my own horn a bit. But, to be fair, what I have been saying is true. It is like with the compliments. I know myself and I know that I am great."

He got a little softer, his face relaxing in this utterly young way, so much so that for a moment, I felt like I was back on the beach with him, that last time before I left Forks and didn't come back until this year. I didn't even remember we had been on the beach that last time until this very moment. It made my heart flutter to see him so… unguarded. I wanted to protect him.

"It has been sort of nice," he said, "being able to say it freely. Most of the time, if you actually talk about all the good things that you have, that you are, people don't get it. They think you are looking to get something out of them or that you are trying to make yourself seem more impressive. The truth is, I am awesome. Most people are. They just don't know how to express it. It is nice to express it, with you. You don't take it the wrong way."

He grinned, "Okay, except for maybe the big head comment, but I won't hold that against you."

Wow. I didn't know what to say. Something about it, seeing him like that, had a similar effect on me to when Edward told me he loved me. I lost the ability to think, and was totally present in a way I almost never was. I said the first thing that came to mind, feeling right somehow.

"It's because of your mom," I said, just knowing somehow. Was this the way he felt when he could read me so well? Did he just see clearly because his head was quiet and answers just sort of came to him?"

He looked surprised and then slightly cheered. I had no idea why.

"Yeah," he said with a breathy little chuckle. "I hadn't thought about it like that, but yeah. It's like, grief, real grief, is like a sand blaster; it strips you down, but you get to choose what parts get stripped. I decided that the stuff that got blasted away were all the things that I thought were so important before. Things like what people thought of you, how much money you had or didn't have, whether or not you had a girlfriend or could be all manly. I was just left with the important stuff."

"Like what?" I asked, feeling like I was hanging on his every word.

"Like family," he said. "Community. Caring about people. Looking after those who need looking after, who can't take care of themselves. Choosing to be grateful for what you have. Learning to roll with it until you find your feet. How to have faith, the right kind of faith, that things will always get better eventually."

His hand in mine squeezed, "How to be honest about how you feel, what and who you care about. That good things come to those with patience. That something as simple as a dance can change how you see the world."

My heart fluttered again.

"Jeez," he said. "That was stupid. I'm sorry."

"No, no," I said. "I mean, yeah, I have a boyfriend, but it… it wasn't stupid."

I wasn't sure what tipped me off. It might have been Jacob standing a bit taller. It might have been his eyes leaving my face and going over my shoulder. It might have been a rustle of cool air behind me. It might have been the almost magnetic effect his presence had on me. I simply understood that Edward was behind me.

"I believe the song has ended," said Edward. "I was wondering if I might have the next."

"In a minute," said Jacob. "I want to finish what I was saying."

"Bella?" asked Edward.

At that moment, I bulked. I couldn't tell you why exactly. I was sort of reminded of the few times I had been in the same room with my parents, before Mom remarried. It felt like I had conflicting loyalties and I didn't know how to move. But it also felt like I was being pulled in two different directions, and I didn't like it.

It happened so fast. I wasn't sure whose came up first or why, but Edward's hand came up, as did Jacob's. They met somewhere to one side of me, and in that exact instant, before I could tell what was going on or why, there was a flash of light, much like the camera flashes that had been going off here and there all night. Edward hissed, a sound not entirely human, withdrawing his hand, in obvious pain.

"Whoa," said Jacob, confused and unsure. "What was that?"

"Edward!" I all but cried. Trying to follow him. He moved towards the door, all but fleeing. What had happened?

"Easy Bella," said Alice, at my arm. "It isn't the best idea to go after him just now. Trust me."

"What?" I asked, concerned. "Why?"

"Bella," cried Jess, coming up to me. "What was that?"

I turned to see her, and to see over her shoulder as Emmett, hulking and huge beside him, throw a companionable arm around Jacobs shoulders and half escorted, half dragged him towards and opposite exit from the one Edward had gone through.

"I'm not sure," I admitted, looking to Alice for help and receiving none.

Jess looked around.

"Not here," she said. She pulled me back to the table, taking up my wrap and her clutch and saying a quick word to Mike who was talking to Tyler and sipping punch. She then took me to the hall and into the school proper. I was surprised it was open. We made it to the second closest bathroom to the gym as Jessica checked and found it empty. We went in.

She sighed, opening the purse.

"This isn't good Bella," she said.

She was right about that. Something had hurt Edward, something I didn't know off. As far as I knew, there weren't many things that could do that. I felt like a fool for not asking more questions when I had the chance. What if I accidentally did something to hurt him? The thought made me positively sick.

"Understand, I say this as your friend," she said, "and I mean absolutely no disrespect, but it needs to be said. I understand Lauren now."

That wasn't the last thing I was expecting her to say, but it would have made the short list.

"What?" I demanded, more wanting her to explain that leap than feeling offended.

"Okay, so, hear me out," she said as she touched up her makeup. "You… You're in a different league, Bella."

She took a moment, sighing, "Like, I don't think I am ever going to be like you. Even when I am an adult and all that, I don't think I will ever get to your level. And that's okay. I get to be on me, where I get to do the best I can and that is great. I love you, and you're my best friend and I am so grateful, you know? But sometimes, and not very often, it is hard to be your friend."

I shut up. This was important, I could tell. It felt like this was not something that was a spur of the moment thing. By her words alone, I could tell this was something that had been building for a while. She took another deep breath and put her makeup aside and looked at me.

"Edward is perfect," she said. "I don't even know what I would do if I had a boy like him interested in me. I couldn't handle it. But, you do. And you do it with a grace and any ability that I almost wish I never get, because… like, I am not sure if I could ever live up to that kind of responsibility, to use it in a worthwhile way. I am happy just being me, and having Mike. God, especially now! He is so much more than I ever thought he could be and he makes me wish that I could be so much more than I am, but he doesn't seem to mind that I am just me and he cares about me anyway. I'm rambling. I just mean…"

She swallowed, "God, I know I sound like a bitch but I have to say it. Is it too much to ask that you simply be grateful for what you have?"

She paused, long enough that I could answer.

"You think I am not?" I ask, doing a passable job of keeping the guarded tone out of my voice.

She looked at me hard, not in an offensive way, but an insistent way, a way that was meant to convey serious seriousness.

"What are you doing with Jacob?" she asked.

"Nothing!" I said, hating how high my voice sounded, almost cracking.

She gave me a look, "Bella, it looked an awful lot like 'nothing' almost resulted in a fist fight, at a school dance!"

She said this last like it was the chiefest of faux pas. I could exactly refute her, mostly because I couldn't be sure she was wrong. I didn't know what had happened, but that seemed like it could be one possibility.

"You have a boyfriend," she said.

"I know that," I said quietly. "Jacob knows that. Heck, probably everyone in town knows that."

She seemed to think about it, "How do you think your behavior looks to Edward?"

I frowned, "What do you mean?"

She looked pained, but more like empathetic pain.

"How would you feel if the roles were reversed?" she asked.

The world broke. It was as though the space between one moment and the next was split, as though the two were on opposing universes. I imagined it then. Edward had said, in his way, that Jacob was a worthy contender for my affections. I conjured up a worthy partner for him in my thoughts. I saw her, a vampiress, striking and beautiful and compassionate and thoughtful in all the ways that he deserved, and also loving and pure and… worthy. Then, I imagined standing aside seeing them together, dancing and spending time together, with my consent, for no matter what I felt, I wouldn't possibly stand in the way of anything that he might want. I felt sick with jealousy, with worry, with wondering if he would really prefer to be with her, but stayed with me out of a sense of obligation.

I understood Jessica's look now. Because, I understood that this was my fault. I had caused this. It wasn't that I was taking responsibility for them. If they had started a fight, that was entirely upon them. But I had been so focused upon what I wanted, I hadn't seriously considered Edwards feeling. I had wanted Jacob to like me and I had enjoyed his company. Edward saying that it was okay was simply a pretty justification for me to think that my selfishness was okay.

I didn't even realize I was crying until Jessica's stark look of self-reproach.

"Oh god," she said, standing before me at a complete loss as to what to do. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry, Bella!"

I hugged her. That calmed her down and quit her frantic fluster. I needed the hug too, and I held my best friend to me. She hugged me back, and I could feel her give herself over to me, her own empathy spilling over. Finally, we pulled back, and she had tears in her eyes too.

"You are terrible," she huffed waterily. "I just fixed this."

She turned back towards the makeup, but was caught firm before she could get there, her hand in mine.

"You…" I said, almost too brimming to speak yet. "You think you aren't on my level? Jess, you just school me on compassion. You lovingly and clearly showed me I was being an idiot, in a way that was so gentle and thoughtful that I couldn't help but hear you."

I touched her face, careful not to smudge her makeup.

"Jessica, I wish I was more like you," I said, giving her a teary smile.

She looked horrified.

"Okay," she said, sniffling, "you really need to stop that or I really will cry."

I have her one last sincere hug.

"Thank you," she whispered, so much meaning in those two words that she practically didn't sound like herself.

"We are going to talk about this level thing later," I said, and she relented.

"Fine, but now, quickly," she said. "We don't want to keep the boys waiting."

She pulled out her makeup again, and touched up hers and mine for good measure.

"You are an amazing friend," I said as we returned to the dance.

"Look who's talking!" she said as we walked out the door. "I-"

Jess slipped. There was a squeak at the end, and she nearly fell.

"Are you okay?" I asked as she caught her balance.

"I think so," she said. "What did I slip on?"

I saw him first. He was lying next to the door, his suit rumpled, as though he had fallen with no way to stop himself and hadn't moved since. Even in the low light, I could see how pale he was, how still. As dark as it was in the hall, I could see the puddle that had pooled at his neck. That was when the smell hit me. I was instantly woozy, and almost went down myself. That was when Jess saw him. That was when the screaming started.

"Mike! Oh god! Mike!? MIKE!?"


	17. Chapter 17: Aftermath

It took time to find my way back. I wasn't sure if it was shock or the blood or both. I was in the hospital waiting room. My wrap and the knees of my dress were dashed with gore, now nearly black. I vaguely recall using my wrap as to hold the wound in Mike's neck shut, not caring if my dress was ruined. That image was crystal clear in my mind, but I didn't know how I got to the hospital. Did I ride in the ambulance with Mike? Had someone driven me? Had I broken into a car and hotwired it? That last seemed the least likely, but there was a big old hole in my memory, so that might have happened.

Jessica was lying with her head on my lap. We were both streaked with Mike's blood and she needed the comfort more than was worried about the mess. I looked up, just in time to see Mrs. Stanley come in. She looked at us, bloodied and exhausted, and almost broke down. I had never seen an expression like that, like what had happened to her daughter, her little girl, was beyond her worst imaginings. I was about to rouse Jess, but her mom held up a hand. I understood. I wouldn't want to wake my daughter back into this reality any sooner than I had to.

Mike's parents noticed her then, and stood, exiting the rest of the only four chairs in the waiting room that weren't folded and in one corner. Small hospital.

"Matthew," said Mrs. Stanley. "Patricia. I'm so sorry. This is just awful. Do they know anything yet?"

"He's still in surgery," said Mr. Newton. "He lost a lot of blood."

Jessica had begun to stir as soon as her mother spoke. She got up dazedly, found her mother and went towards her. A moment before she touched her, Jess realized that she was still a mess and stopped. Her mother did not.

"I can't tell you how sorry I am, baby," she said, embracing her daughter. I missed Mom terribly. She would have been a mess and needed more comforting than me, but I really could've used a hug from her right then.

Charlie came in. I had the feeling that this wasn't the first time I had been in the same room with him tonight, but I couldn't remember seeing him.

"Matt," he said, "Trish. We are going to get to the bottom of this. You have my word."

Mr. Newton shook his hand, "Thank you, Chief. Anything you can tell us?"

Charlie shook his head, "We haven't found a weapon. From what the girls told me, it happened right outside the bathroom they were in, which was far enough away that the music wasn't loud, so it happened quick and quiet. That either means someone came up behind him, or he knew his attacker."

Mrs. Newton looked close to tears.

"No one who knew my boy would do this," she said, her voice tremulous. "Everyone loves Mike. Who would want to hurt him?"

Charlie nodded, "Students at the school were not the only ones in attendance at the dance. A few of the boys who went have records. It is petty things like possession with intent, but it could easily lead to something like this. Could be that Mike saw something he shouldn't, or someone thought he did. We'll know more when we have a suspect.

Doctor Cullen walked in. He looked different in surgical scrubs, but still entirely handsome and professional.

"Importantly," he said. "Mike is stable."

Mrs. Newton gave a little cry and hugged her husband.

"We can't thank you enough, Doc," said Mr. Newton. "We are so glad you are here."

Dr. Cullen smiled thinly, "Unfortunately, Mike has lost a lot of blood. He gave him a transfusion as soon as he arrived, but his levels were so low, he wasn't getting a lot of oxygen to his brain."

"Just what are you saying, Doc?" asked Mr. Newton.

"Mike is in a coma," he said. "There was more than likely some brain damage. We won't have a better idea how extensive the damage is until he wakes up."

"If he wakes up, you mean," said Mr. Newton venomously.

Dr. Cullen took his hand. He put his other on Mr. Newton's shoulder and turned him firmly to face him, and looked in the eye.

"Your boy is alive, Matthew," he said. "There is nothing to be gained right now from fearing the worst. I cannot give you a time frame, but there is no evidence right now to suggest Mike is braindead."

"But," said Mrs. Newton, as though finally brave enough to ask the hard question, "the longer it takes for him to wake up…?"

Dr. Cullen took a deep breath, "The longer it takes, the more likely it is that the damage is severe."

I came forward.

"It couldn't have been that long," I said. "We were not in the bathroom that long at all. Mike wasn't anywhere near there when we went in, so it had to be minutes before he was even there, even attacked. I just wish we came out sooner. We might have-"

"No, dear," said Mrs. Newton, touching my face. "Who knows what would have happened if you had come out. We are just so glad no one else got hurt too."

"Any idea what it was, Doctor?" asked Charlie. "The weapon, I mean."

Dr. Cullen looked a little discomfited.

"It would be hard to tell for sure," he said. "It was pretty ragged, so something irregular. A broken bottle, perhaps."

"Can we see him?" asked Mrs. Newton. "Please."

"Certainly," said Dr. Cullen. "This way."

Jess didn't move.

"Aren't you coming, sweetie?" asked Mrs. Newton.

Jess looked like she might cry, "I didn't want to ask."

Mrs. Newton looked like she might cry, "Oh, sweetie. Mike loves you. You are absolutely welcome. Both of you."

I nodded.

"I am just going to get some air first," I said, looking down at myself, "and maybe clean up first."

"That's fine," said Mrs. Newton.

"Don't leave the parking lot," said Charlie in his Chiefly voice.

"Fine, Dad," I said, sounding exactly like what I wasn't; just another teenager.

I walked outside. I knew, even before I saw her. I didn't know how I knew, but I knew she would be waiting.

"We have to go," said Alice, at the edge of the parking lot, just outside the obvious range of the lamplight.

"What is happening?" I asked, unsure.

Alice didn't look happy.

"There isn't time," she said. "Please Bella, step over here."

I stepped out of the light.

"The camera can't see us here," she said, folding a very large towel around me. Faster than I would have thought possible, I was only wearing the towel. She handed me a container of wet wipes and I began to clean the blood off of my hands. I could just make out her stuffing my clothing into a huge ziplock bag as I finished cleaning myself. She pulled out some bleach, dabbing it to a cloth and cleaning my hands and knees quickly and efficiently, spot checking each with a sniff afterwards.

"We're good," she said, and Jasper and Emmett suddenly appeared as if from nowhere. I wished they had waited until I was sporting more than just a towel, but they seemed far more interested in the surrounding area than me. I felt like I was being guarded.

Alice pulled out jeans and a T-shirt and underthings, the latter of which at least were mine from home. She dressed me at that lightning speed of hers. I realized she was serious when she said time was an issue.

"What is happening Alice?" I asked.

She shook her head, "I can't explain yet."

"Why not?" I asked.

She looked thoughtful. No, not thoughtful. She was looking at something else, somewhen else.

"Can't tell you that either," she said. "The car is this way."

Car wasn't the right word. It was a massive jeep. No, it was more like the offspring of a jeep and one of those massive earth-mover dump trucks, the kind with wheels as tall as school busses. Emmett clicked a fob. Of course, this was his vehicle.

Alice drove. She belted me in first, the seats having more safety straps than I was betting most planes had. The two brothers were in the back. At least, I thought they were. I only ever saw Emmett in the back.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"Home," she said.

We drove to the outskirts of town, down a road I knew and hardly used. The turn off was almost invisible and would have been hard to spot even in daylight. Once on it, it felt like more than a mile before we reached the home of the Cullens.

For all the times I had spent thinking about their home, I hadn't imagined anything like what it was. About the only descriptors I would have gotten right were huge and expensive. It was a massive structure, three stories and intensely modern. There was a lot of wood and stonework, but everything was angular and only hinted at organic shapes. The vast majority of the face of it was glass, a jutting balcony or two off to one side, hanging almost impossibly in the air. The house was bright and inviting and surprisingly homey.

"Inside," she said, fluttering her hand over me to make all the straps disengage seemingly at once. To my surprise, the step down was much further than I remembered it being. Emmett caught me on the way down.

"Easy there, snack," he said with a grin. "The game is just beginning. Don't go taking yourself out of play just yet."

I was about to ask what he meant, but Alice was there.

"Quickly, Bella," she said.

"No," I said, and she closed her eyes.

"I know," she said. "Believe me, I know. You want answers, and I want to give them to you. But, believe me, the best way for this to go is if you trust me a little more. Please, Bella. For Edward."

It was what she needed to say to get me moving.

"Where is he?" I couldn't help but ask. "Why wasn't he there? Is he going after the vampire that attacked Mike? It was a vampire, wasn't it?"

We went inside. The inside was much as the outside; modern, open, bright. It looked to be furnished as much for comfort as it was style. The art was modern and minimal, and the rooms were not overly full or expensive for the sake of expense. I loved it and wished I could take it in, room by room, but the urgency that had been with us since we had left the hospital was still here.

"Edward," I couldn't help but call.

"He isn't here," said a flippin' movie star.

She was just a bit taller than me, her heart shaped face more than simply pretty. She had a presence about her, the sort needed to convey a depth of self, the sort of person one would find gracing the silver screens of old movies. Her swirl of brown hair had caramel colored highlights, set off by the paleness of her skin. She wasn't wearing the Cullen's traditional contacts, and her brown eyes were awash with depths and shown as though nebulas lived in her irises. There was a softness to her, a kindness that seemed to emanate from and permeate through her. She was decidedly and undeniably a mother. The fact was especially evident in the look of worry upon her face, a worry that was momentarily pushed aside as she beheld me.

"Bella Swan," she said, her voice nearly as reverent as Edward's had been at times. "I am Esme Cullen. I have wanted to meet you for so long."

She embraced me, and I was surprisingly comforted by her arms around me. I felt like I belonged there, in her arms and welcome in her home, and for a moment, I let myself go. I was swept up in a torrent of mixed feelings when I heard the door behind us. I turned to see the Doctor walking in, with Jasper and Emmett behind him. Out of the corner of my eye, Rosalie came to stand at the top of the stairs. They were all here, all but one.

"Alice," said Carlisle. "Can you explain?"

"I don't know," she said, sounding miserable. "I wasn't looking. Even when I did, nothing I saw suggested this would happen, could happen. The worst I saw was him hurting Bella."

"Who hurt me?" I asked. "What is happening? Where is Edward?"

Emmett shook his head, "Love really is blind."

I stared at him. Esme took my hand. She guided me to the couch. She sat me down. She took my hands, looked into my face, much as Carlisle had done with Mr. Newton. And, she forced me to face the truth that I had been running from the moment I saw Mike on the floor in that hallway.

"Edward attacked Mike," she said. "For the first time in his existence, Edward has attacked an innocent. Even when he hunted humans, he always chose his prey carefully, culling those that culled human life. He has never before done anything so undeniably monstrous."

This felt like a dream. It didn't feel right, feel real. It felt like a living nightmare.

"Something must have happened," Alice said, seeming to back me up. "Or maybe many somethings that compounded themselves."

I didn't want to say. Saying it was my fault because I danced with Jacob seemed wrong somehow. I knew it must have hurt, but I couldn't imagine that it would be enough for him to want to hurt Mike.

"He came in contact with an implement of faith," said Jasper. The last three words had a weight to them, letting me know that they were meaningful in a way I didn't understand yet.

"How?" asked Carlisle. "Who?"

"There was a Quileute boy there," said Emmett, giving me a meaningful look. "Bella was dancing with him."

They all looked at me.

"That wouldn't be enough," said Carlisle. "But I am sure that it didn't help."

"What is an implement of faith?" I asked, completely aware that I was trying to change the subject.

"Some legends about vampires are based on fact," said Carlisle. "We are repelled by implements of faith, but they have to be imbued by those who know of us and truly believe such weapons will work against us. Simply holding up a cross will do nothing, but the necklace worn by a devout Catholic for a lifetime in order to repel evil will burn us as surely as whitehot metal."

Jasper turned towards me, "Did he do anything tonight, anything out of the ordinary?"

My brows furrowed, "Unusual how?"

"Vampirically," he affirmed.

I winced, "He showed me the town from nearly forty stories up. Does that count?"

They all looked somewhat bemused.

"He carried you?" asked Carlisle. "For how long?"

"Long enough for him to tell me the story of meeting me and my possible double future and why he has been spending his nights at my house and… everything."

They all exchanged looks, each a different level of skepticism.

"That doesn't seem possible," said Jasper.

"He told you about your future as a vampire?" asked Alice.

"He actually told you about the stalking?" laughed Emmett.

Esme was the only one who didn't seem put out by my pronouncement.

"Welcome to the family, dear," she said, sitting beside me on the couch and putting an arm around me. I might have pulled away, but she was so comforting. I really, really needed it.

The rest were looking at me.

I took them each in turn.

"Why is it impossible?" I asked. "Yes, after a fashion. He more told me about you seeing it, and that it was not something he could live with. And it wasn't stalking."

Emmett chuckled and Rosalie rolled her eyes, somehow using her whole head in the gesture.

"Edward," said Carlisle, sounding like a professor, "was carrying you, while preventing the pull of gravity. Think about it like this. Imagine you are on a treadmill. To stay in place, you have to keep pace on the treadmill. That is what he was doing with gravity, except that gravity doesn't impart on you a constant velocity; it imparts a constant acceleration. So, you are on a constantly accelerating treadmill, to stay in place. With practice and a talent for such things, as Edward has, you might get quite good. Now, double your body weight. How long do you think you could keep stationary then?"

I blinked. How long indeed!

"I don't know what to say," I said. "That is what happened."

"Which means…" said Jasper.

"Which means," said Carlisle, "when he was burned, his reserves were already low."

He turned to Alice, "How was the hunt?"

She winced, "Not idle. He took in what he could stomach, but it wasn't a lot. We tried many times, but he isn't taking to it."

"Taking to what?" I asked.

"Animal blood," she said. "It is a bit like trying to get an alcoholic's body that is used to a liquid diet to tolerate solid food again. It takes work and practice."

I shook my head, "That doesn't seem like enough. So, he was low on…"

I winced, "…blood. He got burned. But that doesn't seem like a good enough reason."

"I agree," said Carlisle. "Something more must have happened."

"That really isn't the issue," said Alice.

"What is the issue?" I asked, mostly because no one else seemed willing to.

Still, no one said anything.

"What?" I asked. "What is it? Where's Edward?"

Alice closed her eyes, searching.

"It is hard to tell," she said. "He isn't thinking, isn't choosing. My power allows me to see the future you choose, once you have made a decision. But new information, a different choice, that can throw everything off. Edward isn't thinking right now. He is letting his instincts rule."

"Alice," I said, "what is this beating around the bush thing? Just tell me."

"He is hunting you," said Jasper. "You are his prey now. He will track you and do his level best to kill you. If he kills you, his life will be over. So, we have two choices here. Stop him, or kill him."

I stared at Alice, feeling like my torso had disappeared.

"If he kills you," she said, "he will not rest until he is dead as well. He will not have only taken away the first best chance at the future he wants, but he will have killed the first person he truly loves. There will be no coming back for him. He will either truly be a monster that we will have to stop or he will do nothing but try to end his existence, by any means necessary."

Everything seemed to slow, the world to vanish. Time lost all meaning, and I felt like I was falling, only the ground was above me, as though I had fallen off the edge of the world, from which there could be no recovery. I knew that I still had a body, but I couldn't feel it. I knew that I still had a mind, but couldn't think. I knew that I still had a life, but I couldn't find a tomorrow. And I knew that I still had a heart, because I could feel it breaking.

My voice was flat, yet also somehow croaky, "Can you go back to beating around the bush?"

Esme hugged me.

"We won't let anything happen to you, dear," she said. "If there is a way back for Edward, we will find it."

"He is coming here," said Alice, her eyes far away, "close enough to listen to us. I think he likes it better when he knows exactly where she is."

I looked around. Emmett and Jasper were near the front and the back of the room. They were serious. Edward was going to try to kill me. I really couldn't understand it, couldn't believe it. How could this be real?

"What do we do?" I asked.

Alice frowned, "I-"

The back window exploded. Somehow, Esme's body was instantly between me and it. I thought she might be shielding me from the glass, but she stayed there between me and that direction, even as she pulled me from the couch and led me away.

"Alice!" she cried, over what sounded like concussive steam blasts and splintering wood and stone. That was when I saw it, saw him.

Edward was locked into combat with Jasper, Emmett, and Carlisle. He was fast, so fast that I couldn't see most of it. It was like intermittent snapshots or a strobe light. Every once in awhile I would register a moment, a frame, and the next, they would be somewhere totally different. Always at least one of them had hands on Edward. Divots were appearing on every surface, as though suddenly and instantly dented by extreme force. There was a constant hiss and snarling, like spitting cats but far larger and deeper and more ferocious. Edward looked strained. Literally, the bones of his face looked as though they might burst through his skin, as though his skeleton was bowing towards me, trying so hard to get at me that it was about to rip itself out of his body. His eyes were a molten glowing crimson, the rivulets of what had once been his contacts melting down his cheeks. He looked nothing like himself. He looked like a monster. If his family hadn't been there, I would have been dead.

"We have to go," someone said. It took me a moment to realize that I had said it. I didn't know how. I was beyond thinking. I simply knew that being there, seeing him like that, was painful. I didn't want to be there anymore. I also didn't want to leave, to leave him. I was so conflicted!

Alice nodded and started leading me away.

"Jasper!" she cried. There was a sudden crack and Edward screamed in pain.

I stopped. I literally stopped, trying to see, wanting to return, to help him, to relieve his pain if I could. Emmett and Carlisle held him down on the ground, his back twisted in a horrible angle. Leaving him like that seemed an impossibility

"I broke his spine," said Jasper, opening a closet beside the door and pulling two bags. "That should slow him down, but not for long."

Alice picked me up, literally carrying me away as they ran. I heard her say something, but it was too rushed and windy for me to make it out.

"Excuse me," said Esme, as I was suddenly next to the BMW that Alice had been driving earlier that day. Or, was it yesterday now. I suddenly realized that Esme had said excuse me because she had just taken off my clothing, replacing each in part with her own. I was so dazed, I didn't seem to mind at all, even with Jasper so nearby. Hers were a little long on me, but she rolled them up with lightning speed before placing them upon me. I had just enough time to realize the tan two-piece sleeveless pantsuit she had been wearing was lined with silk. It was nice to think about, not having to worry about what we were doing or why.

"That way," Alice pointed. "Hurry!"

Esme kissed my check, caressed my face. I wanted to hug her and not let go.

"We are all with you," she said, and then she ran, off into the woods, wearing the T-shirt and jeans I had been wearing, a decoy.

"In!" commanded Alice, the word so harsh in her ringing, clarion voice that I dove into the open door, and we took out of there just fast enough that the tires didn't squeak.

"Where now?" asked Jasper.

"My place," I said as Alice said, "Bella's."

"And then?" he asked.

"Not yet," said Alice. "He is still too close."

I understood a little better. Standing still in a room with him had been hard, uncertain. But acting, having a goal, things to do, made it easier. I didn't have to think about it. I just did what I had to do.

We were at my place in less time than I would have thought possible. The cruiser wasn't there. I almost wished it was. Somehow, for the first time, even though I knew he couldn't do anything to protect me, I wanted my Daddy.

"Pack," said Alice. "Essentials for a few days. Keys?"

I gave her the keys. She unlocked the house and then was opening the truck.

"Hurry," she said. "I am not sure how long they will distract him."

I ran inside and upstairs. I unceremoniously dumped my school bag onto my bed. I went into my closet and grabbed clothes. I made sure I had five sets of tops and bottoms, socks and underwear, ran into my bathroom just long enough to jam everything into my toiletry bag, then ran back and shoved it into my backpack. I was about to go, when I saw the jumble on my bed. I pick up a pen, found a blank sheet and wrote:

Dad,

I'm sorry. I can't. I just can't.

Bella

Putting it in plain view on my desk, I grabbed my stash of money and dug my passport out of the bottom drawer and ran outside.

"Truck!" Alice called, and I changed direction, nearly breaking my ankle and jumping in. She had rolled both windows down. She drove outside of town, then down an unpaved back road into the woods, and then into the trees, just deep enough that it couldn't be seen from the road. She carried me again, back the route we drove to the BMW. We got in, and drove south for half an hour.

"Where to?" asked Jasper.

"Bella?" she asked.

"Why are you asking me?" I asked.

"Because," she said, "you are the only one who can think of something Edward wasn't prevee to."

I thought about it. Where would be the last place that Edward would look for me? Probably in the stupidest, most obvious place.

"Phoenix," I said. "Take me home."


	18. Chapter 18: The Hunt

"I still think this is a bad idea," said Jasper.

Alice shushed him with a look that clearly said, "I love you, but what you are doing isn't helping."

He shut up.

"It doesn't matter if he can read our thoughts," she said. "He will have to come here first. I will see that, enough to give us a warning, at the very least. Even if he narrows it down to a few square miles, he can't know which hotel we are actually in. Unless someone is actively thinking about us at that moment or we are actively thinking about our location, there is no way for him to figure out where we are."

We got close enough to the hotel to use their wireless network on the laptop that was in the car. They had me get the room, not telling them what room number it was, along with rooms in a few other hotels in Phoenix, and Settle, Los Angeles, San Francisco, Portland, and Carson City. By the time we had finished, it was dusk on Sunday. They kept their heads down as I led them to the room, apparently occupying their own thoughts enough to not pay attention to details. Once we were in the suite, I closed the curtains, picked my room, put my stuff in it, and came back out.

"What do we do if he comes?" I asked. Alice was sitting in a chair, her contacts now in a case beside her. I could see her shifting beneath their lids, twitching here and there, as though dreaming.

"Airport," she said. "You get a flight to New York. From there, you pick. We will give you enough cash to live until we can stop him."

"Is that what the others are doing now?" I asked.

"Yes," said Alice.

I frowned, "How do we stop him?"

She turned her head to Jasper and nodded. He opened his bag he was keeping in the room with us at the end of the couch, well-worn and leather, but well-kept and repaired. He pulled out some implement and handed it over to me.

They had stopped before dawn. I remembered. I had been half asleep and went back to fitful sleep soon afterwards. I took what he handed me.

It was a stiletto dagger, one of three.

"I-" I said, almost dropping it.

"Cannot kill Edward with this," said Jasper. "It is unlikely that you could even hurt him with it. It takes a stab into the heart. You have to make sure to get it in between his ribs. Once in, his blood will drain away."

I looked at it.

"Why not just use a gun?" I asked.

He smirked, "Bullets can be dodged."

I blinked at him.

"Also," he went on, "you can close a wound that small fairly quickly. This needs to be removed first, and we tolerate a stab to the heart about as well as you do. Once he is stabbed once, again and again isn't hard. They quickly will not have enough blood to heal, and soon will not have enough blood to move."

I frowned, "Why didn't you do this when he was at the house?"

"We didn't have these at the house," said Jasper.

Alice smirked.

"He keeps one in our room that the others don't know about," she said. "He would be in trouble if they knew. Besides, Edward's a telepath. Had we tried, he would have known. You would have been hurt, likely have died."

I tried to swallow the lump in my throat down. The result was less than satisfactory.

The dream-like feeling had not left me. I was here, but I felt removed, disconnected. If you had asked me what I would be doing now three days ago, I couldn't have told you, but I would have been at home, likely in bed, possibly with Edward visiting. The idea of him being there, outside my window, seemed like a dream come true. I couldn't imagine the scenario going any other way than me inviting him in. I liked the idea of him being the room with me, felt a thrill at the idea of him actually being in the bed beside me. The thrill turned to blissful contentment as I spun out fantasies of him holding me as I drifted off to sleep, staying with me the whole night through. Now, the very idea of him outside my window meant danger. Or, it should mean danger. I was scared that my life might end and what that would mean for him, but I couldn't, absolutely couldn't, think of Edward as something to be feared. And that was very, very stupid.

I drew out the blade and looked at it.

"It won't kill him," he said. "After he is down, you would still need to burn him and disrupt the ashes. Some vampires are so old, even that hasn't worked."

Somehow, that helped. We weren't trying to kill Edward, just stop him. I could do that.

I held the dagger out before me.

"No," he said, "here."

What followed was a short tutorial on the proper way to stab someone in the heart. It is all about using your body weight as leverage and getting your mass and center of gravity behind the blow and and holding your arm just so and aiming and trusting your body. I was terrible at it.

"Let's take a break," I asked.

"Alright," he said, "we will keep practicing, though. It might save your life."

I nodded, finding a seat next to Alice.

"Where is he?" I asked.

She shook her head.

"My ability is like his," she said, "and isn't like his. I can't just know where he is. I can't even see what he is doing. I can see where his current path will lead as he makes the decision to go there, but I may not even know where there is, even if he knows it. And I may not even get that if he doesn't know where he is going."

I gave her a confused look.

"You can go somewhere even if you don't know where it is," she explained, "especially if you have never been there before. How do you get to Central Park in New York?"

I relaxed, "I see. There are so many steps to doing something you have never done before, you never know what step will give you the information you need to make the next decision."

My face went skeptical.

"Then, how did you know?" I asked.

"Know what?" she asked in return.

"You said that Edward would fall in love with me someday," I reiterated. "You said that there were only two outcomes with us; my death or my new status as a vampire. How is it possible for you to know that? Neither he nor I have ever done anything like a relationship."

She smiled, "Bella. You always have a choice. But there are some decisions that you will always make, unless some fundamental aspect of who you are changes. Until that happens, you will always make the same decision."

I thought about that.

"But if you always have a choice," I asked, "couldn't you still choose the same decision as before, even though something has changed? How do you really change?"

She slid closer to me and took my hand.

"Freewill," she said. "Life wears you, as water over a stone, but bigger factors come through as well, like love and fear and pain and truth. Some are too strong, too harsh, too painful, too poignant to ignore. When that happens, your paradigm shifts."

"Paradigm?" I asked, wanting to understand. I had heard the phrase before, but I wasn't sure what she meant in this context.

"Think of it as a lie we tell ourselves," she explained, "for any number of reasons. You were told a lie your entire life because people were angry and wanted you to believe you were small so they could feel big. Or it could be something you believe because it is easier than facing the truth. Or it could simply be something that you have never seen contradicted your entire life and never knew it wasn't true. But finally, you are willing to see the truth for what it is, or, at least, not deny the lie anymore. You then incorporate the truth into your world view."

"So, unless Edward or I have a major paradigm shift," I clarified, "we will be together forever?"

"And if he doesn't kill you," clarified Alice, "yes."

I didn't like that.

"But that sort of suggests that we are lying to ourselves in some way," I complained.

She laughed her tinkling little laugh, "Bella, everyone is lying to themselves in some way. It is how we cope. Some lies are bigger than others. But not all paradigms will keep you and Edward apart."

I nodded. I didn't like it, but I nodded. I turned to Jasper.

"Again?" I asked, and he stood. We practiced again.

That soon became our routine. I woke up. If I was hungry, we ordered room service. I answered the door with the college hoodie that Alice had picked up somewhere and played the sick college student, cooped up in her room trying to study while ill. The fact that I wasn't getting any sun and was hardly eating helped this image. Then I would practice with Jasper until I got tired, then I would talk with Alice about Edward until I got bored. I would watch television until that got boring. Then I would practice with Jasper again, and the cycle would continue until I became tired enough to cry myself to sleep. We shut out the sun and day and night lost all meaning.

"You're improving steadily," said Jasper after what seemed like the longest practice session yet.

"And no," said Alice, speaking sweetly to Jasper, "even if we weren't in a hotel room, I wouldn't allow her to practice upon you. She wouldn't do it anyway."

I blinked at him to see if he was serious, horrified.

Jasper smirked at her, "If I told you it was just an idea, would you believe me?"

She shook her head, smiling, "Never."

I went to the kitchenette to get water and towel the sweat from my brow, but really, I just couldn't be around them when they were so… couply. In my frustration, I realized it wasn't enough and that I needed a shower. I slipped away to the bathroom.

Stripping down usually felt almost cathartic, like I was getting rid of a burden I had long forgotten I was still carrying, but it didn't really do much for me at that moment. The hot water helped my sore muscles, but I wished it helped me relax, but it seemed I was doomed to a state of near constant tension until this plight was over. Here I was, in the city that I thought of as home more than any other, right up until I had really settled back in Forks. I hadn't realized that until that moment, that Forks now truly felt like home, which made being back here so much more bizarre. That, compounded by the fact that I was in some strange hotel room, miles from the place I had thought of as home and would not be going back to, made it all the more strange. And, the fact that I was running from the last person in the world that I thought I would ever need to run from and that I was working really hard to learn how to possibly stab him in the heart in self defense or else risking my death followed by his… I couldn't think about it too hard or I would go nuts with just how out of my life and my element I felt. I was here and coping, but I missed… everything. I missed my friends, my room, my Dad, my life. And him. God, I couldn't think about it anymore or I would start crying again and this time, I didn't think I would stop.

I got out of the shower. I dried myself off with a corse hotel towel, and I slipped back into my room. I took out another set of clothes out of my backpack, from next to the bag I had been sticking the old ones into. Aside from my disheveled sheets, the only evidence of my occupation in this room was in the back I could grab and leave with at a moment's notice. I was here, and I was ready. As hard as this was, I was prepared and I had the support of those around me. I could get through this, even if I didn't know how. I could do this. How was I going to do this?

Shaking my head and stifling my worries, I prepared to go back to them. As I stepped back into the room, freshly clothed, Alice spoke up immediately.

"What is in Riverside, California?" she asked.

I came up short, the question completely unexpected.

"Um," I said, drawing the word out, giving my time to align my thoughts. "It was where my grandmother lived. She passed away almost six years ago. Why?"

She nodded, "He is going there, will be there soon, breaking into the townhall for the census records. Until he finds what he is looking for, he doesn't know where he is going."

"Yeah," I said. "I am not sure what happened to her house. Mom and her weren't very close. She and I were more so. But I think she, my Mom, sold the house as soon as she could get it presentable. She went while I was visiting Charlie one summer and cleaned it out. It hasn't been in our family for years."

She looked thoughtful, "It might be a good fallback spot. He will not likely check where he has already looked for some time."

I smiled, "We might as well go back to Forks, then."

She gave a short breathy giggle.

"Right now," she said, "I think you are more willing to contend with a murderous Edward than you are your father."

I crumpled. She was right. I hadn't even begun to come up with an excuse. What could I say? Sorry, Dad? My boyfriend was trying to kill me? I couldn't even think of a plausible lie.

I felt sleep starting to take me.

"Night," I said ironically, because I had no idea if that word applied. I went to my room and to sleep.

I double checked to make sure my bag was ready to go, laid out my clothes for the next "day", and, as I did every time before bed when I had nothing and no one to occupy myself with, I started to cry.

Edward was going to do his best, was doing his best, to end my life. It didn't make any sense. I had felt safe with him, completely safe, until I found Mike on the floor in a pool of his own blood. I hadn't wanted it to be him, hadn't wanted to believe it, but I knew. I had known immediately what had happened. And I hated it. For the first time since I was old enough to give up childish fits of peak, I truly hated something. I wasn't as though I expected Edward and I to magically live happily forever after, but I certainly would have put this on the short list of impossible things. I knew he might kill me, but I had imagined it would have been some quick, snap of the moment thing. This, trodding, grooling, plodding trek to my doom… it felt so unlike him…

It felt like no time at all had passed when I awoke with a start.

"Bella!" came Alice's voice from my door, harsh and demanding.

"Hmm?" I murmured, still half asleep.

"We have to go, now," she said. "He is here, in Phoenix."

I was suddenly awake.

"How much time do we have?" I asked, standing, nearly toppling as I was still too asleep to be on my feet.

"I'm not sure," she said. "I am not even sure how he did it. But when I looked a moment ago, he was in range to hear my vision. He used his to hijack my sight. As he saw my vision, he changed his choice, and he did it perfectly. He made every possible wild choice and found us on our way to the airport. I managed to stop looking just before he could backtrack us to the hotel. But we have to go, now!"

I felt like I had been asleep for several hours, at least.

"What do I do?" I asked, getting dressed.

"He could be finding his way here now," she continued, "and I can't check again, not without giving us up completely. I have already gotten you the ticket to New York. We might be able to get past him. He can't do anything vampiric too public. We just need to get you on the plane."

I paused, thinking about it.

"Or," I said.

"No," she said, sighing. "We aren't risking you to try to stop him."

I jutted my jaw.

"It's my choice," I said.

I had been giving it a lot of thought. It had been building in me the last few days. I was the only one who had a chance to stop him, to pierce his heart. It would be dangerous, but it was a chance I was willing to take, if I had to.

She looked at me hard, "Bella, I will not let you make a decision that you do not understand the consequences of. I won't. Let's go."

My jaw was still jutted as I did as she asked. I finished dressing. My back was ready to go. I shouldered it, and left my room.

"My bag," said Jasper as I passed the couch.

"I got it," I said, bending over the leather bag, sliding it over my shoulder.

"Hurry," he said, not taking it back from me as we moved down the hall and into the elevator."

"Here," said Alice, holding out a ticket for me. "I didn't check any information on it."

I shook my head, "He is in your thoughts, right now?"

She shook her head, "More than likely. Can't be sure. Doesn't matter. You will have to wing it from here. Best we can do is protect you from a distance."

"My bag," asked Jasper.

I nearly fumbled the bag as I slid out from behind my back and off my arm. He closed the flap and slid it across his body.

"As soon as the elevator is open," said Alice, "go."

I knew what to do.

The elevator opened. I headed for the front doors, in a rush, but not running. The last thing I needed was to twist an ankle. I hurried outside, taking in the sky, dark as ever. There was a shuttle there. Perfect. More people the better.

I was coming up beside the shuttle when I heard a cry behind me. I whipped around, seeing Alice standing beside the door, looking at a concerned Jasper, just in time to hear the harsh chipping sound. I wasn't sure what it was, not until the resounding crack of the rifle caught up to us. At the same moment, a gout of blood spew forth from Jasper's torso in both directions along the bullet's trajectory, high, perhaps from a neighboring building. Perhaps just in the sky.

Alice grabbed Jasper, hoisting him easily and taking him at nearly inhuman speed for cover. People barely had time to react before she was around the corner of the building and gone. I had to run.

I ran in the opposite direction of Alice, unsure where I was going. It had to get somewhere out of the public eye, somewhere he couldn't see me, not until I wanted him to. I wasn't sure where. I crossed the street as quickly as I could without causing a traffic accident. I found myself out front tall building, a bank building. Security. That might help to slow him down. I tried the door, and though it was late at night, the door was open. I went immediately to the elevators, but they needed keycards. I went to the stairs and found that there weren't wasn't anything preventing you from getting onto them, just not onto any of the other floors. Must be a safety thing, I thought madly, my lungs burning and my heart pounding nearly as hard as my feet as I began to climb. I was pretty sure that I had chosen the tallest building in all of Phoenix, taking the stairs as fast as I could. By the time I got to the roof, I felt like I was about to have a coronary.

The door to the roof was unlocked. I couldn't have told you why. It looked like someone had jammed the lock. Next to the door was an ashtray, which pretty much answered my question. I headed out slowly, owing more to my out-of-breath-ness than my trepidation.

There was scaffolding and air conditioning equipment aplenty. I wasn't sure where to go. I knew that he would find me here, either because of Alice or because he would look. I needed to be noticable, to be visible, to be huntable.

I went to the edge of the roof. Reaching into my bag, I grabbed the stiletto dagger that Jasper had given me. It was pretty sharp. How much would I need? A drop? A small cut? Hopefully not a dangerous amount. I needn't have bothered.

With a rush and a skitter of gravel, someone crashed down upon the roof behind me. I turned and there he was.

Edward had looked better, clothing wise. He was wearing his tux, but now, it was in complete disarray. The bottom half seemed to be splattered in mud. Buttons were popped or missing. His cummerbund was gone, as was the stone at his neck and at least one cufflink. There were small tears everywhere and one especially big tear at the seam of his shoulder. His hair was mussed and a bit dirty. But his face…

He was as beautiful as ever, every proportion as I had seen it so many times before. There was no writhing bone or bowing muscle to distort the contours I knew so well. But his eyes… His eyes were different. The majority of the contact pieces were gone, leaving his eyes red. There were glowing darkly, smouldering embers on a low fire, dark but still deceptively hot. They were voids, as emotionless and unwavering as those of a shark. And, they were perfectly zeroed in on me.

"Edward," I whispered, and he almost didn't react at all.

"Please," I said, my voice a firm as I could make it, but unable to completely hide my fear. "Don't do this."

I held the dagger before me, my hand trembling. To my horror, his expression finally changed. He smiled. It was the most harrowing moment of my life.

The dagger skittered across the gravel, back across the roof, far enough away that there was no chance I could get to it before he could get to me. He was gone. No, not gone, behind me. I turned and staggered back, putting distance between him and me. He was on the very edge of the roof, between me and what would have been my one way out. If I had gotten over the edge of the roof before he had gotten to me, there would have been no way for him to catch up before I hit the ground. So much for plan B.

"Why are you doing this?" I practically croaked, trying to buy more time on this Earth. I really didn't expect an answer.

He snorted, "You are prey."

"I'm not prey," I said, feeling shaky with fear. "I'm Bella. Isabella Swan. I'm your Bella."

The truth of what I said shocked me. I was his. He didn't own me. I freely gave myself to him, to be his. It was my gift, one that I found that I had not revoked, even in my impending death.

To my surprise, he reacted again. Not in indifference as I would have expected, and not pleasantly or appropriately for someone romantically involved as we were, which was my deepest wish; my words seemed to hurt him. But then his resolve seemed to find him again.

"You are mine," he said, his voice thick with poorly contained fervor, "my prey, my chalice, the vessel of my sustenance. You are a means to my continued existence. Nothing more."

I… I lost focus. I couldn't… It was my fear. My darkest, truest fear. If I stopped trusting, if I removed all faith from my life, I would believe that there was no way for Edward to love me, no reason, no possibility. I was nothing but a tool to stave off boredom, an artifact to occupy his curiosity until something better came along. I would believe I was unworthy of love, of life, of him.

And in that moment, something crystalized for me as it never had. I was completely comfortable calling myself his Bella, but the inverse terrified me. It scared me to death that it might not be true, might never be true. I needed faith, more than anything else, because if I didn't have faith, I was never making it off of this roof.

"I know you don't believe that," I said, finding my voice more sure than I would have believed. "Come back to me, my Edward."

I didn't think he could have had a bigger reaction if I had applied jumper cables to his chest. He jerked and flinched back, half twisting away. I almost made a run for it, just remembering that running prey is to be chased, to be killed.

Instead, I took a step closer to him. I made it two more steps before his eyes found me, looking angry and, to my dismay, warning. Something of Edward was still there. I dared to hope that I might make it out of this alive.

"Why are you doing this?" he seethed, his voice all but a hiss. "Don't you see what you are doing to me, just by existing? It hurts! I just want it to be over!"

He stilled, the pain in his face pulling back, leaving only a painful intent look as he once again zeroed in on me.

"No more doubt," he said, his voice husky with desire and a fervor that bored on manic, "no more pain, no more risk, no more trying and failing to be what I never will be. I am a monster. You are just another human, another victim…"

"Mike is alive," I said. I don't know why I said it. I just sort of popped out, but I followed the train. "You didn't kill him. You hurt him, sure, but there may not be any lasting effect here. You made a mistake, one from which you can recover."

The pain was back, the confliction, the confusion. I had to keep trying. There was still a way for us both to walk away from this.

He looked at me, really looked into my eyes.

"I am a monster, Bella," he said, his words quiet. "I have never been anything else. I never will be."

I swallowed.

"You always, always have a choice," I said, casting it all into wind, letting go. "If you want to be a monster, then choose."

I looked away. I slumped a little my knees bending, my shoulders twisting back to one side. My hands at my sides, I trembled. I could almost feel him coming, could just make him out in my periphery. He was just beginning to bend, savoring what was to come, knowing there was nothing that I could do. Now.

I stilled. He did too, confused by my fear leaving me as my breathing calmed though my heart still hammered. I reached out, blindly if I hadn't known him so well, memorized him standing beside me, his height, his physicality. My left hand landed on his shoulder, my first point of leverage. Clutching, I twisted my body, hips and shoulders. At the same time, I extended my legs, lifting, pushing with every muscle I knew how, my calves, my thighs, even my back. I raised my right hand, my elbow under the movement, leveraging my shoulder into the motion. I augmented the movement with my forearm, twisting into the upward plunge as I drew him down with my opposing arm. And, as though I had been practicing for months and not days, the second stiletto that I had taken from Jasper's bag found its target.

The force of the blow carried us back. Edward froze, aside from taking the few steps back to stop him from falling with the force of the blow. He was too close for me to see all of his face, until he straightened. He looked down, seeing the hilt of the dagger against his chest, my hand still around the handle. He looked shocked, looking at the blade and then me. Something tinged his expression, something like emotional hurt, of disappointment.

"Bella," he said, sounding small and disbelieving. "You…"

He began to fall. He didn't step back or try to pull himself off of the blade. He simply tilted backwards. Only then did I realize that we were on the very edge of the roof.

"Edward!" I screamed, losing myself completely. I released the blade, and reached for him. My left barely held to him, my right already slick with his blood. I tried but could not get purchase, but I refused to let go, to give up. Only when I had lent too far did I realize we were both going.

We fell, together. In the rush of air passing us by, I pulled myself to him. I knew we had only one chance; I pulled the dagger from his chest. The hurt of it seemed to bring life back into him. He reached out and grabbed me, held me, and our descent slowed. And for a moment, I was with him again. I was in his embrace, and he was protecting me. I let go.

"Edward," I whispered. I don't know if he heard me, but I hoped he did.

We touched down, roughly, I could see the side of a building, an alley of some kind. I wasn't sure how we got here. And then, I couldn't care.

Edwards lips were against my neck. They were cool and electric against me, filling me with such sensation. And then, those cool lips gave way to a slice of deep pain, not diminished in its ecstasy. I bowed against him, backwards into his arm, and felt his mouth pulling against me, heard him vocalize the thrill of his feeding. And I realized, that was the moment in which I was to die.


	19. Chapter 19: Consequences

It was an odd feeling, knowing that you were about to die. I wished that I could say that it was an unfamiliar feeling, but it wasn't. I hadn't thought about it much, not before it had happened. Before I had come to Forks, I hadn't given much thought to my death. If I had had a choice, the way I was about to go would have made the shortlist for acceptable ways to perish. If I had it all to do over again, I would have, and gladly. For when life gives you something so close to a dream, how can you not be grateful?

I felt the pain start to leave me, as though my body couldn't hold onto it anymore. It was something I wouldn't need for much longer. I wouldn't need this body or this world either. There was still so much that I wished that I had done, that I had appreciated. I wished that I could tell Charlie that he had made the last months of my life worthwhile, that he had done a great job at being my dad. I wished that I could tell Jessica that she was an amazing friend and I knew that she would grow into an amazing woman. I would just smile and thank Angela for being herself, and she would smile too. I would hug Jacob, wishing that I had done it sooner. I would tell my mom to be brave as ever and that it had all been worth it and that she shouldn't worry. And at that moment, I realized there was one last thing that I wish that I had done that there was still time for.

I reached up and touched his face, caressing his check.

"I love you," I whispered.

There was a jerk of pain, the reverse of a bite. And then, I could see his face, my Angel's face. The last face I would ever see. It felt like heaven to me. I smiled.

"It's okay," I said. "I understand. And I love you. Nothing you can do will ever change that. Even if you kill-"

"No!" he screamed. I felt sharp pressure against my neck. I didn't like it. I tried to pull away, but he wouldn't let me go.

"Oh, god!" he cried. Angels should sound like that, so full of grief and fear…

"What have I done!?" he screamed. "Carlisle! Help me! Please! Help her!"

There was a clatter of something by my head, and I realized that I was on the ground. The gray that my vision had been reseeded, staying to the edges. I could see some of the night sky and the buildings above me, but it was as though the part of my brain that knew how to find things in my field of vision was gone or that, maybe, I couldn't understand what my eyes were seeing.

"Her neck," he said. "I didn't bite deep."

"I'm ready," said another voice, and the pressure on my neck went away, only to be replaced by the sting of a needle. "How much did you take?"

"I'm not sure," said the Angel. "Too much. Please, help her!"

I was all too familiar with the sensation of stitching. It was practically a comfort. Reaching out, unsure how I did, I found a cold hand.

"Hold on, Bella," said the Angel, as my sight gray and the world began to fade. "Hold on…"

I lost time. I wasn't sure how much or for how long. The first thing that I realized was that I was warm. I felt safe. If I hadn't known any better, I would have said this was heaven. But I did know better. He wasn't there.

"Edward?" I mumbled.

"Oh, sweetie!" said a high voice. "Are you okay? Are you in pain?"

I knew that voice.

"Mom?" I said, my voice very small.

"You're okay," she said with a sigh of relief. "Thank goodness!"

I opened my eyes.

Of course. I recognized the hospital. I really was home.

"What happened?" I asked.

My mom smiled sadly.

"We were hoping you knew, sweetie," she said. "The doctor said that there might be some memory loss. It looks like fell and cut yourself?"

I wasn't about to explain. I didn't rightly know how.

"It's all a bit fuzzy," I said.

"Bella," said Mom, in the tone that I knew admonishment was coming after she was sure I was okay. "Why are you here?"

I grimaced.

"It has been days," she said. "Charlie is having kittens. What happened?"

I swallowed, and I began to improvise.

"Mike almost died," I said, thinking of the first thing that came to my mind.

"Jessica's boyfriend?" asked Mom. "Charlie didn't mention anything. He just said you took off."

"We were at the dance, and," I said, and I swallowed. It was a little painful, "I am not sure exactly what happened. There was a stabbing-"

"A stabbing?" Mom said sharply.

I nodded, and regretted it. That hurt too.

"He almost died," I said. "We weren't even sure if he was going to make it. And…"

This part I didn't have to lie about.

"Edward disappeared," I said.

Mom closed her eyes, as she did when everything settled into place in her head.

"I see," she said. "Did he have something to do with it?"

I looked at her.

"If he did," I said firmly, "it wasn't by choice."

She nodded.

"So the boyfriend who has swept you off your feet disappears at the most inconvenient time and you freak out and come home," she said. "I get it. You aren't out of the woods, my dear middle-aged child, but I get it."

She turned, and then turned back.

"I need to make a phone call," she said, "let Phil know everything is okay. You gave us quite a scare there Bella. Please, don't give me another one. I'm too young for gray hairs!"

She smiled and I smiled, and she opened the door. Turning back, she said, "I love you, Bella."

"I love you too, Mom," I said.

She closed the door behind her, revealing Edward.

I froze. He wasn't looking at me. His head was down, his eyes closed. He didn't speak.

"My family believes this is a bad idea," he said. "Mostly. But I needed to be here. I need…"

His voice trailed off. He sounded almost broken.

I wished I had had time to prepare for this moment. I knew what I had to say, but not how to say it.

"Why are you here?" I asked.

He looked up. His contacts were missing. His eyes were bright again, bright because, I deduced, he had fed recently.

"It is my retribution," he said. "I have wronged you."

I shook my head as slightly as I could, but it still hurt.

"I am as much to blame as you," I said.

He raised a fist, looking as though he very much wanted to hit something, maybe himself.

"This is not on you," he said, each word distinct onto itself and seemed to cause him physical pain to get out in a civil manner.

"It is," I said, gathering my thoughts. "I haven't been fair to you."

"How?" he said, as though he thought me utterly absurd.

I adjusted my blanket, realizing that I was wearing little more than a hospital gown and said blanket. It was suddenly at the level of my chin.

"I once told you," I began, "that I couldn't be in a relationship with a murderer. And you had proved, before my very eyes, that you were one. Not only that, but you openly admitted that it was the very definition of an addiction for you."

My mouth felt dry. But I went on. I had to.

"It was too soon," I said. "I didn't give you space to change. I burdened you with my expectations, that you should change for my sake, for the sake of my love and affections. We never should have dated."

Something fitted itself into my mind. This was the paradigm Alice was talking about. When I took it as truth, I was able to see more. Edward believed he had only two choices; kill me or make me a vampire. I truly could not be with someone who wanted to keep me just a bit more than he wanted to kill me. The recent events had proved that beyond all doubt. If that was true...

"Edward," I said, my voice firm. "As it is, there is no place for you in my life."

His face fell, looking shocked somehow.

"You are a murderer," I said. "Until that is no longer true, if ever, I want you to leave."

Those words felt so wrong, it felt like lying. I didn't want him to leave, but somehow, I knew that he had to.

He went vampire still. I wasn't sure if he was seeing anything of me or the room around him. He was no longer an animate thing.

I wanted to tell him that I believed in him, that I knew he could do it, that I had faith that we could be together again some day, but I knew why I wanted to say those things. I wanted them to be true. I wanted them to be correct and right, but they might not be. But for a few moments, too close to chance, Mike might have been dead, still may be. And I might have joined him.

And, for the first time, the truth of it all crashed down upon me. Edward hadn't just hunted me; he had genuinely tried to kill me. He had made the choice that being with me was too hard, and that my death was preferable to trying and failing. He had decided I wasn't worth being with.

Tears, angry and hurting, streamed down my face. And before I could stop myself, I spoke.

"You tried to kill me," I said, my voice broken. "How… how could…"

He moved. He turned, opened the door, and left. I caught just the barest hint of his face. He looked like a man tormented. And I had done that to him.

Moments later, my mom returned.

"Are you alright, sweetie?" she asked. "Does it hurt?"

It did, but I felt like I deserved the pain.

"I'm fine," I said.

"Why are you crying?" she asked.

I looked at her, "I'm in the hospital."

She looked at me for a moment longer.

"Okay," she said, looking like she didn't believe me for a second.

"How's Phil?" I ask, wanting to change the subject.

"Getting everything ready," she said, smiling in that I-can't-wait-to-tell-you-but-I-am-still-going-to-drag-this-out way of hers.

I shook my head, "Mom, I am too tired and in too much pain to-"

"He got signed!" she said happily. "No more running around, no more living out of hotel rooms. We are moving just as soon as we get a house. The house, really. It is this quaint little place, just off the beach. It is perfect! You will have your own room and everything. We should have everything settled, and as soon as the school year is over, or sooner if you like, we can move you back."

Back? Move back?

Something about that rubbed me the wrong way. I couldn't just leave.

"Mom," I said, feeling slightly desperate, "I can't just move back. I have a life in Forks."

Mom looked at me.

"Now, Bella," she said, actually sounding like a mom for once. "I know you love Edward, but this really-"

"This has nothing to do with…" I said, finding the name harder to get out than I would have thought, "him."

She looked more than a little surprised, "Oh?"

"I couldn't just up and leave Jessica," I said. "Mike just got hurt. And Angela, and Jacob. And how could I leave Dad?"

Mom looked shocked. I had started calling him Charlie because that was what my mom and my grandmother had called him, and they had both thought it was hilarious. Since then, I had sort of stuck with it unless I was actually with him. Mom had noticed the difference.

"I see," she said. She seemed to think about that.

"Are you ever going to move back?" she asked, sounding sad. "Bella, you are going to be eighteen this year! You are almost a senior. Are you ever going to live with me again?"

"Mom," I said, and, though it hurt, I scooted over, making space on the side of the bed which was the opposite side from my bite. She curled into the bed and let me put an arm around her.

"I know you're sad," I said, "but you always knew this was going to happen. If it happened this year or next, it will happen, and you will never think it was enough time."

She hiccuped a croaky little laugh.

"That's so true," she said, her voice as watery as her eyes. "I love you, my baby girl."

She kissed me. And I felt something twist in me. I loved my mother to death. I had really missed her. And like that, the damn in me broke. Tears came streaming down. My mother held me carefully as I held her, and I cried. I cried for the pain of it, for sending him away, for the time I had lost with her, that I would lose with her, for the childhood that was running on fumes, for the totally unknown future that was laid before me. I had no idea what tomorrow would bring. The one element that I so longed for was gone. My angel had flown away just as I had found him. It was over.


	20. Epilogue: Home

I woke up in my bed. It seemed like a million years ago since I was last here, but it had only really been nine days. I had missed a week of school, and now I was back. I couldn't have told you what the rumors were like, mostly because I didn't know yet. I had gotten in late last night, and, as with my previous return to Fork, Charlie didn't have much to say.

"Grounded?" I had asked.

"Yep," he had said.

"How long?" I asked.

"Until I think you learned your lesson," he said.

"Yes, sir," I said.

I hadn't said anything more for most of the ride home.

"They found your truck at the bus station," he said after many miles.

"Oh," I said, trying to hide my surprise. "Did I have to pay to get it out of impound?"

He gave me a don't-be-silly-this-isn't-the-big-city look.

"It is at home," he said.

"Good," I said, relieved. "That's good."

Just as we were pulling into the outskirts of town, he spoke up again.

"You remember anything about what happened?" he asked.

"No," I said. "I was at Mom's. Got in with the spare key. I was there for a few days, trying to figure out what to do. I mean, what I did was sort of extreme, and once I calmed down, I was just scared that you and mom would be really mad. I went to the library downtown and that is about the last thing I remember."

"Did anyone see you?" he asked.

I looked at him, "Yeah, dad. Lots of people."

"No," he said. "I mean, did you see any of your friends while you were there? Anyone you know?"

"Not that I know of," I said. "Why?"

He frowned.

"I heard a weird report, is all," he said. "Apparently there was a shooting at a hotel nearby. They checked the security cameras and didn't see anything. It happened in a blind spot and they only just got a few shots of the people involved."

"That's too bad," I said, slowly, confusedly. "Who died?"

He frowned, "No one. That's the weird part."

"What is?" I asked.

"They found enough blood that there should have been a body," he said. "But it didn't turn up. Weirder still, none of the blood was human."

I frowned at him, "What do you mean, not human?"

He shrugged, "From what I understand, it was a lot of different species, all mixed together. They identified bear, cougar, and deer. But witnesses say it came out of a person, a pretty lethal chest wound."

"I see," I said. "Why is this important?"

"I don't like it," he said. "First Mike, then you, and now this. Something stinks and I can't put my finger on what it is."

I had left Charlie alone as much as I could after that. I had eaten dinner and showered, changed my clothes and my bandage, and went to bed.

The Cullens had helped my alibi immensely. My bag had showed up at my mother's place. My bed looked like it had been slept in, dirty clothes in the hamper, food and leftovers in the fridge. I had opened my bag and found the note in the first pair of socks I went to put on.

Bella,

You went downtown to the library. The rest is up to you. I will miss you.

Alice

It had nearly broken my heart all over again. Somehow, I hadn't imagined that they would all be going. I wasn't sure what I had expected. I had been too scared to ask Charlie, and he didn't say anything about the Cullens.

I shook off sleep and got up. My routine for school felt oddly familiar, yet also nostalgic. I did everything I normally did, right up until I walked out of the house. Not silver volvo waiting for me; just my truck, roaring to life in its usual way. I drove to school.

I was halfway across the parking lot, digging in my bag to make sure that I had everything, again, when I heard the thwap thwap thwap of oncoming footfalls. I looked up, just in time to see Jess storming right at me, the fiercest look I had ever seen on her face, tears in her eyes.

"Jess!" I backpedaled, "I-"

She caught me up in a hug that nearly took us both down. It was so tight, I had trouble breathing for a moment.

"Never," she whispered. "Never, never, never, ever do that to me again. Ever."

I hugged her back, my bag nearly falling off.

"I'm so sorry, Jessica," she said.

She pulled back, tears falling in streams down her cheeks.

"You scared me," she said. "Jeez, I don't know what I would do without you."

I dug out a pack of tissues and handed them over. She wiped her face.

"I won't," I said, "believe me. I am done with the theatrics."

She laughed.

"What?" I asked a bit defensively.

"I know you, Just Bella," she said. "You don't do things by half. Just take your relationship with Edward."

Her face fell. I wasn't sure why until I realized that mine had fallen first.

"No!" she said. "Then the rumors are true!"

"What rumors? I asked.

"That Doctor Cullen got a fellowship as some amazing hospital in some third world country, and that the Cullens are leaving."

I swallowed, touching the bandage on my neck.

"I don't know about all that, but yeah," I said. "The Cullens are leaving."

"But," she said, looking just as teary as before, "what about you and Edward?"

I felt my lip tremble.

"NO!" she cried, hugging me again. "Oh, Bella! I am so sorry!"

She pulled back, "Wait, is that why you left, why they haven't been in school all week?"

I didn't say anything. I didn't have to.

"You are entirely forgiven," she said. "I mean, I am very angry at you for disappearing at the hospital like that, but Mike getting stabbed and then that… I can see why you bailed."

I started walking to class. She looped her arm through mine.

"I missed you, Just Bella," she said, laying her head on my shoulder.

"We match," a voice said.

I looked up, and Mike was standing there. He looks paler, like he had been recovering from a long illness. Something about his face looked more mature somehow, like his illusion of safety was somewhat diminished. Just then, I caught the bandage on his neck too.

"Huh," I said, looking at his. "Yours is bigger."

"That's what she said," said Tyler, as though coming out of nowhere. "Hey there, Just Bella. I heard you were single."

"Oh, my, god! Tyler!" said Jessica harshly. "If you are trying to pick up my best friend on the rebound after the week we both just had, I'm sending you back to the hospital."

Tyler raised his hands, "I was just-"

"Just be elsewhere!" demanded Jessica. "Am-Scray!"

Sufficiently cowed, Tyler meandered off, Mike not far behind. We were nearing the buildings when Angela appeared, Ben not far behind. She smiled and hugged me and welcomed me back before returning to him and going her own way. I was so grateful to my friends.

Classes were what I expected. My teachers had loads of work for me to make up, and only Mr. Mason welcomed me back. Jess was my shadow, hanging with me as much as ever. I managed not to start crying in our usual bathroom meetup between second and third, but it was a close thing. When we got to the cafeteria and their table was empty, I just about lost it.

"He's really gone," I whispered.

I had been holding onto hope that he wouldn't listen. I was holding on to the idea that he didn't want to give up, that he would stay and fight for me, fight through everything, that I was worth risking and failing for again. I was wrong.

Jess hugged me. She took me through the line and we got our food. She got out first and was back after setting down her tray to lead me to our table, so much so that I could have closed my eyes if I wanted. I kept my eyes away from their empty table, and the empty table that had been ours. I ate in silence with Angela close and Jess closer. The group was rambunctious and happy and just normal. It was distracting and equal parts gut wrenching and exactly what I needed. When lunch was over, Mike took me to Biology.

"What do you remember?" he asked. I knew what he meant.

"Not much," I said.

I wasn't about to ask, but he spoke up anyway.

"It was rough," he said. "I just remember looking for you two, hoping that the girl talk would end soon so I could see Jess again. I know it sounds stupid to miss her while she went to the bathroom, but yeah, I did. Someone grabbed me from behind. It was so strong."

"The grab?" I asked, confused. He didn't clarify.

"I have never felt so helpless, so powerless in my life," he said. "I just knew one thing."

He put a hand on my shoulder. We both stopped walking.

"I knew what was important to me," he said. "Jessica. You. My friends. My parents. Everyone who cares about me. All of you, you helped me do everything I could to fight, to stay. It helped. It helped a lot."

He gave me a brief, very heartfelt and utterly unromantic hug. When he pulled back, he looked at me.

"You're my friend," he said. "If you ever need to talk, about anything, I can listen. I may not be great at it, but I can learn."

I nodded, "Thanks, Mike."

"I think I am going to go by Micheal now," he said.

"Okay, Michael," I said. There was a beat of silence, and we both started snickering.

"No," he said. "I think I will always be Mike."

We went to Biology. Mike stood by me for the beat of misery as I beheld the empty chair beside my usual one. He offered to switch partners, and I said no. I could endure this. I would have to endure it and more. He was still my partner in Gym, and for that, I was grateful.

I got home and started doing a week's worth of schoolwork. I had finished all of English and most of Government when I went down and started dinner. Charlie got home just as I was finishing up.

"Hey, Bells," he said, walking into the kitchen. "I got some news today."

I knew what was coming and didn't look at him.

"I'm… sorry, Bella," he said. "We don't have to talk about it. I know… it can be hard… being left… anyway. I-"

I hugged my dad. I hugged him hard. It was everything I could do not to cry. But then, he reached up and held me and stroked my hair. He didn't say anything. He was just there and solid and my Dad and he held me. The tears came, quiet and fast. When I was done, he let me go and said nothing else about it. I cleaned up and put dinner on the table and we ate in companionable silence. He told me he would get the dishes and good night. I went up to my room, somehow feeling happier and the more miserable than I ever had while in Forks.

I finished Government, showered and was about to go to bed when there was a knock at my window. I nearly swallowed my tongue, but without a thought, I opened it. Alice slipped silently into my room.

"Please keep your voice down," she said.

I wanted to hug her, desperately, but I was not going to try and have her reject me. My heart could take that just now.

"Why are you here?" I asked.

She nodded, "I knew it. I knew it would be like this."

I frowned, "You knew? Knew what?"

She shook her head.

"I knew that Edward would catch up with us," she said. "I knew that there were only three ways this could go. I knew it. One, we would get you on that plane. He is a terrible tracker, and he wouldn't have found you, not before we could have finally brought him down. Two, he would have gotten to you and killed you, which was one of the more likely scenarios. And three, you would have gotten through to him."

She shook her head, "And yet, you two managed to beat all the odds and do the worst of the latter two. I wasn't ready for that. I had done all I could. I sent a message to the rest of our family after he had left Forks, letting them know to come to Phoenix, but stay on the outskirts of town, ready to come when I messaged them. And they did. They were moments away when he fed from you. Had you stalled just a bit longer, they might have gotten there before he took blood from you. But, had you waited too long, he would have killed you directly once he knew that he might lose his chance."

She looked at me, saw the horror and misery this discussion was inspiring in me, and gave me a stern look.

"You need to hear this, Bella," she said. "You need to know it all, good and bad."

I shut up.

"Edward," she said, and sighed. "I am breaking the rules, being here. He said we were to have nothing to do with you again, but he doesn't dictate my actions. I knew you would need this."

"Need what?" I asked.

"Closure," she said. She took my hand.

"Ask," she said.

I swallowed, "What will happen to Edward?"

She smiled grimly, "That isn't any of your business anymore."

She said it easily and simply, without malice or rebuke. She just said it.

"And me?" I asked.

She closed her eyes and looked.

"Your future," she said, "is as undecided as you. You are free to choose whatever life you want. Not every future is open to you, but many are possible."

"Will…" I asked, but girded my loins, "will he and I…"

She shrugged.

"He hasn't made the decision yet," she said. "Until he does, I won't know. And when he does, I don't know what choice you will make."

"Will I…" I asked, trying to get the words out, "…move on?"

Alice gave me an encouraging look that I had no idea how to feel about.

"Do you want to?" she asked.

I thought about it.

"I don't know," I said.

She just smiled and didn't say anything, giving me the space to continue, should I choose.

"I want the life I thought I was getting when I first got together with Edward," I said. "But I won't, ever. That isn't me moping or feeling dramatically bereft; even if he came back right now, said everything I could want him to say, that he is sorry, that he learned the error of his ways, that he had changed, and did, not just said but did, everything I required of him to know that he had really changed and he was ready to try again, it wouldn't be anything like I imagine it. He proved that, even before he decided to try and kill me."

I blinked. Something new had occurred to me.

"He didn't apologize," I said, awed.

Alice smiled, "I thought you were done with apologies."

"Yes," I agreed, "but he didn't own it. He didn't take responsibility for it. He was still acting like what happened was bad luck or a divine sign that he truly was a monster. He refused to see, and I say this without blame, the fault lies with him."

She hugged me. It felt like she was squeezing my heart, exclusively.

"Finally!" she said. "Thank you. At least you see that."

I looked into her face as she pulled back.

"He doesn't?" I asked.

She shook her head, "He is being a right jerk about it. He is pretty much wallowing in the most unhelpful way."

"Unhelpful?" I asked, urging for more.

She sighed, "He isn't doing anything. He isn't moving forward. He isn't looking to learn or to grow or to get better. He is stayed, stilled, stuck in the belief that he is a soulless, worthless, unerring monster who will always destroy that which he cares for the most. If he doesn't shape up soon, Carlisle is going to kick him out."

I looked horrified, and she laughed.

"He needs to change," she said, "not to benefit us, but himself. He will never be happy if he stays as he is. If he can't learn from the support of his family, he will have to figure it out for himself, with the harsher and more painful world as his teacher."

I understood.

"What about me?" I asked. "What do I need to do? To be ready. Not just if he comes back, but if I… if someone else might…"

She smiled at me, a real and deep and genuine smile.

"I adore you, Bella," she said. "If we are never sisters, I will consider it one of the worst, if not the worst, tragedy of my life and never forgive Edward his foolishness."

She took my hands.

"Live," she said. "Don't become stuck, as Edward is. Take heart in the fact that this is just a day, one of many. Happier times will come again for you, as soon as you are ready to receive them. What happened will only hurt and hold you back as long as you are getting something from the pain and inactivity. Let go as soon as you are ready, and not before, and do not stay overly long in grief, even if it means risking getting hurt again."

I understood that too.

Edward, who's name I had been avoiding even thinking, was now in my past. He may never be anything to me again but my past. I loved him, but moving on didn't mean I loved him less or that my love was a lie. It just meant that I was moving on. I deserved to be happy. So did he.

"I hope he figures it out soon," I said. "For his own sake."

Alice nodded, "Me too."

I hugged her again.

"The heck with Edward," I said. "You are my sister. No matter what."

"Stop it!" she gushed. "You are going to make me wish that I could cry."

I looked at her as we pulled back without breaking the embrace.

"Vampires can't cry?" I asked.

She laughed quietly, "We can. It is just less frequent than you humans, and it's messy. It is something we are lucky if we do every hundred years or so."

I smiled and took Alice's hands.

"Will you visit?" I asked. "You don't need to tell me about him or anything. I just… I am going to miss you."

She beamed, "I will, if I can and should."

I nodded.

"Maybe we will take a trip over the summer," she said. "I haven't been to Europe in a spell. Or Asia. Hmmm. We will have to see how things play out from here."

I nodded again. She moved to the window.

"I love you, Alice," I said. "Good luck."

She smiled over her shoulder.

"You too, Bella," she said in parting. "Live the fearless and regretless life I know you are capable of. Be happy."

And with a whisper of movement, she was gone.

I stood in my room, staring at the open window. My life and relationship with Edward had been something entirely new. I had been a creature of unbridledly day before coming to Forks. Edward, a creature of undeniable night, had met me. Together, we had had our own little twilight, where day and night met. It could have gone either way; I could have gone either way. I could have gone back to day, or creeped deeper into night.

I closed the window.

Nodding once, I went to bed. I had one dream that night. It was a farewell.


End file.
